Lèse Majesté
by Bobadoo
Summary: Krista Nimholtz becomes a wanted woman when her father’s plan to assassinate Hitler goes awry. Can she find her way in a world that has finally shown its ugly side? Will she find safety? And what happens when she runs into a certain Band of Brothers?
1. Hidden Things

First BoB fanfic…read and review and I will worship the ground you walk on!!

A little side note here, I do not speak German. :( So you'll have to deal with _this _being German. I'm sorry, but I'm taking German next year! In the mean time, if you want me to throw in some Spanish every now and then, I would be happy to oblige. Again, I apologize for my insufficient knowledge of the German language but I can't have my friends translate for me all the time.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter One: Hidden Things**

**September 1944**

**Nuenen, Holland**

In the dark confinement of what must have been a closet, Krista sat staring at the door. Yes, it must have been a closet; she could feel the coats against her head. There was a crack of light at the bottom where shadows used to pace. There had been none for hours; they must have gone.

Her wrists were unbound now, as were her ankles. She knew the closet door was not locked. It seemed that her captors had made a mistake, giving her the perfect opportunity to escape. All she had to do was open the door and sneak out of the city. Germans occupied it, Krista knew this, but she also knew someone was coming; she had heard the sirens. They would be distracted. It all seemed so easy, so simple. All she had to do was reach out and freedom was hers.

Oh, but her captors were smarter than that.

They relieved the guards because they knew she would never leave the unlocked room. Her bonds were cut in order for her to hold the body. She was left in the small space to ensure no distractions. They left her alone with him, her thoughts keeping her still and locked up in the closet.

Him.

Pierre.

Now dead.

Her fault.

She held him in her lap, one hand stroked his short, black hair, and the other held the gunshot wound in his side attempting to stop the blood flow that had long ago ceased. His eyes stared endlessly into the dark closet, though she believed his eyes were on her, asking her why she had done this to him, why she had let him die.

'I did not mean to.' She thought to herself, believing he could hear her. 'I could not stop them. I'm sorry I got you involved. I wish it were me. I'm sorry.'

Krista could not bring herself to look down at him, she could not confront what she had done so her staring at the door continued.

The building began to shake as though an earthquake had struck but Krista still refused to move. She did not want to move Pierre for fear of…something; she did not know what.

The building shook again.

Was it a tank? Yes, that had to be it. Were they going to blow her building apart? No, she was far too important to them. They had to be shooting at someone.

Gunshots? Had her captors decided to shoot the civilians? No, they would not do that. There were strict orders in place and rank was everything to these men. Someone must have come. Yes, that was it, someone had come. Was it the Allies? Would they save her?

An elation that would have existed was smothered by her guilt. She did not care. All that time of waiting for rescue and now she just did not care. Death did not seem as bad as it used to. Maintaining prisoner status meant torture for certain which was something she more than deserved now. Pierre's death could never be forgiven.

The shots outside intensified but were drowned out by her own thoughts. He was dead; Pierre was dead because of her. She had watched him get shot trying to save her. All she could do was scream and let them grab her. She should have let them take her on that day at the train station. Pierre would still be alive if she had.

The outside door opened, followed by another gunshot and a body hitting the floor. Hurried footsteps now entered the house.

"Why do you think that Kraut ran in here?" A man asked, breathing hard. He spoke English but with no accent like those from Britain. Was he American?

"I don't know, Web. But who cares? He opened the door which gives us permission to snoop around." said another.

"What, now?"

"Yeah, now. We're doing a search of the building for snipers, starting with this here closet." A shadow now appeared in the crack of light. Krista did not move though her hand stopped its stroking of Pierre's hair.

"Liebgott, I don't think you're going to find a sniper in the closet." 'Web' replied.

"Sniper or no sniper, it's part of the search. 'Sides, there might be something of interest in here like some SS jackets or maybe a luger. What do you say?"

'Web' sighed. "Dibs on the luger."

"Hey, finders keepers, buddy." The closet door opened shedding light on Krista for the first time in hours. Blinking to adjust, she looked up at the two men. Their jaws at this point had dropped to the ground as well as their rifles. She saw the flags on their shoulders. So they were Americans.

They stared at each other a while. Krista's breathing intensified. If it was from elation, fear or anger, she could not tell. Anger did not seem a proper emotion at the moment but it was there nonetheless. She was angry that they had disturbed her from thought, from the mental torture of herself. Perhaps she was angry that they were saving her when she deserved it least.

Another set of footsteps entered the building.

"Liebgott! Webster! What the hell are you doing? In case you hadn't noticed, there's a war outside!" This new voice had a strange accent but it was not one she recognized. The three continued to stare at each other. "Let's go! That's not a suggestion fellas." He said when they still did not move.

"Bill…" 'Liebgott' did not take his eyes off her. "I think you should see this."

'Bill' stormed his way to the closet. "What the hell could be more important than the…" He locked eyes with Krista. She stared at them a moment longer before turning her eyes downward again, this time out of shame.

"Holy shit."

* * *

**April 1942**

**Soest, Germany**

Her house had sat on one of the rather expensive streets and almost towered over the others. It was filled with every kind of antique furniture available and precious paintings 'purchased' from Paris. Every kind of food, drink and music was available to them. The depression had not affected her family and now, they prospered more.

Being the daughter of a highly regarded general had its benefits but she would trade all of it for the opportunity to wear pants once in a while, or play football with the boys. Her father had always wanted a daughter and what he got was a boy who could wear skirts.

Krista sat in the living room and had just settled into her book when the front doors swung open, barreling into the walls behind them and making a nasty indent. She nearly fell from the chair as two young men paraded into the house, laughing and singing, their gray uniforms sticking out in the brightly colored room. One quickly shut up when a book was chucked at his head but the other continued to laugh.

"_What was that for!?"_ shouted the young man as he turned around. He shared her light gray eyes but his hair was blonde while hers had remained a deep brown. Her brother was much taller than her but she could take him on any day of the week. Height did not guarantee strength, or balance in his case.

"_For nearly knocking me to the ground, Dieter, that's what!"_ Krista yelled back, catching the book as it was returned to her. _"What are you two so crazy about anyway?"_

Dieter's smile returned. He swung around his arm around his friend, Arick, who was taller still. Arick was a true Aryan with both blonde hair and blue eyes. _"You are looking at two new candidates for the SS."_

It was now Krista's turn to laugh. _"You…you're joking, right?"_

Arick frowned. _"What's so funny?"_

Krista began to laugh harder. _"Hitler must be crazy if he decided to hire you two."_

Dieter clenched his fist. _"What did you say?"_ He began to storm over to Krista but Arick grabbed him before he could do anything.

"_Be calm, my friend. Besides, we have celebrating to do, remember? Forget your sister. She's better than Russia."_ Arick turned to Krista. _"Which is where we're not going!"_ He began to skip around the house like a drunken fool. Krista would have said he was except he acted like this all the time. He then grabbed her by the arm and began to dance.

"_Arick! Arick, stop! You're going to step on my feet!"_ Krista struggled from his grasp but he was too strong.

"_I will not."_ He turned to Dieter. _"Hey, give your soprano voice a go!"_

Dieter gave him a hard stare but then smiled. He broke into song and soon Arick joined in.

"_Germany! Germany!_

_What a place to be!_

_Everywhere there's beauty, _

_Oh what a sight to see!_

_We live up in the mountains,_

_We live down on the plains;_

_We live out by the sea,_

_And even with the-″_

"_French."_ Arick shouted, giving Krista a little twirl.

"_French?"_ Krista repeated. _"That doesn't rhyme."_

"_Sure it does!"_ Dieter shouted. _"Keep up!"_ As they began to sing again, he joined the two in the living room and began to dance with his sister.

"_Germany! Germany!_

_What a place to be!_

_Everywhere there's beauty, _

_Oh what a sight to see!_

_We live up in the mountains,_

_We live down on the plains;_

_We live out by the sea,_

_And even with the-″_

"_Russians!"_ Dieter shouted. All three began to spin in the room, getting into the mood. Any confrontation that would have happened between brother and sister was now long forgotten. They were too busy trying not to fall over on any of the antiques.

"_Germany! Germany!_

_What a place to be!_

_Everywhere there's beauty, _

_Oh what a sight to see!_

_We live up in the mountains,_

_We live down on the plains;_

_We live out by the sea,_

_And even with the-″_

Now Krista shouted. She was not a fan of Germany's conquering obsession but she would do whatever it took to keep the house argument free. _"English!"_ The boys whistled and clapped.

"_Now you're getting ahead of us, Krista."_ Dieter said stepping out.

"_No, I think your sister is right."_ Arick replied, loving his opportunity to dance with Krista again. For ten years, Arick had a crush on Krista but could never bring himself to tell her, though she already knew. "_If Hitler just lands us over there with one of those monstrous planes he has, we'll have them in no time._" The pace slowed down and the two began to dance the waltz.

An older man stepped into the house through the still open doors. He wore the same uniform as Dieter and Arick, though with many, many more decorations and a much higher rank.

"_What on earth happened here!?"_ Arick immediately stopped dancing with Krista and came to attention, as well as Dieter, flushing slightly.

"_Apparently the SS."_ Krista stepped past the two boys and hugged the man. _"Welcome home, father."_

"_Did you do your chores?"_ He asked, his face buried in her shoulder.

"_What chores?"_

"_I see."_ Her father let go and put down his briefcase. _"You let the maid do them." _He looked over at the two boys_. "You don't have to stand at attention here, how many times must I tell you that?"_

"_Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."_ They said in unison, not relaxing.

"_And don't call me 'sir', it makes me feel old."_

Krista smiled. _"That's because you are old."_

"_Well, at least one of my children knows how to insult me properly. Arick, don't you have a home to go to? Last time I checked, I had not adopted you."_

"_Sir!"_ Arick shouted, saluting. Their father gave a simple wave and off Arick went.

Ignoring Dieter, their father picked up his briefcase and headed for the stairs. It was a little overfilled so one of the papers fell out. Dieter bent over and picked it up. After scanning it a few moments, his face suddenly became red. He crushed the paper into his fist and walked out the door.

"_Dieter, what was-″_

"_Nothing!"_ He shouted from the street. Krista stared after him in wonder. For the longest time, her father and brother had been having arguments; several a day was the norm. She never did understand what was going on for every time she tried to get answers, a swift push and a slammed door would stop her. Lately, her brother would talk to him with hatred in his voice, though he still came to attention when their father walked through the door. Rank was everything to him. He was a Nazi poster child.

Krista sighed and sat in the chair again, ignoring the still open doors. She blamed it on the fact that Dieter would be leaving. Yes, that had to be it. Perhaps father was trying to get him to stay, using his rank to change minds. Yes, that was it.

She curled up in the chair and began to read her book. Little did she know that in less than a week, she would be on the run and her brother would be the biggest enemy she had.

* * *

Well, if you guys like it so far, feel free to suggest anything. Romances, plots...I'm here to please!!

I wrote this fast, so excuse the mess.


	2. Torn from Comfort

Hey! Time for Chapter Two! Thanks to all who reviewed.

**Sweet A.K.  
shariena  
WETSU  
hansolo18  
loveonspeedial  
Webeta**

**I'm worshipping you guys right now! See me over there...no...a little further to the left...your other left...now the right...no, that's some other fan...there, stop! That's me! worship, worship**

I saw 'Schindler's List' for the first time this weekend and, I must say, that was a real eye opener. You think you know everything and then you see something else that just knocks you flat off your feet. It was a beautiful film and worthy of every award it received. And, before I forget, I suggest you guys watch the trailer for 'Defiance.' It looks really good.

Oh, and don't forget. Italics equals German because all I know how to say in German is hello and I'm a drunk German, which is actually kinda fun.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Torn from Comfort**

**September 1944**

**Nuenen, Holland**

Krista focused on a crack in the floor, keeping herself from looking up at them again. The men had fallen silent and it scared her. Silence had meant a lot of things in her life: disappointment, contemplation, the calm before the continuation of beating, but this silence…it was that of surprise. That was the worst of them all. The object of their attention with nowhere to hide except within the confines of her mind but even that was not permanent.

'Please stop staring. Please stop staring.' First Pierre, now them, just staring…staring. Could no one stop accusing her? They did not know, why must they stare?

Without her knowledge or consent, she began to rock back and forth. This seemed to snap the men out of their trance.

'Bill' moved forward, swinging the weapon around his shoulder. "Alright, let's get her-″

Another 'earthquake' tore through, this time, a little too close. The three men dived to the ground while Krista struggled to cover up Pierre, not wanting to risk further harm to his body. He had been through enough already; there was no need to torture him in death.

For a while, she could hear nothing except a high pitched ringing. Krista looked up from Pierre's body and locked eyes with 'Webster.' His were a light color, like her brother's and, ultimately, like hers. He had fallen before her, blocking her from harm, as did the others. He tried to say something to her, but she heard nothing; she looked past him and he followed her gaze. There was a new hole in the house. Apparently her captors did not care too much about her anymore. Either that or they did not want the Americans getting her.

"Time to go!" 'Bill' shouted. "Liebgott, watch that opening. Webster, get that guy off her." 'Webster' moved to grab Pierre but Krista moved back, hitting up against the wall of the closet. She would not let them take him; she could not leave him, not alone.

'Bill' noticed the situation. He looked over at Krista and grabbed her arm. "Hey, my name is Bill Guarnere. Okay, you got that?"

"Sarge, I don't think she understands." 'Webster' said.

Krista looked at 'Webster' quickly then back to Guarnere. "Bill?" Her accent was thick, making his name sound funny but it was still understandable. If one thought 'Webster's' eyes could not go any wider, he proved them wrong by opening them more. He would keep his mouth shut now.

Guarnere nodded. "Yeah, that's right. That there is David Webster and the skinny guy over there is Joe Liebgott. We're going to keep you safe but we can't do that until you let him go." He pointed to Pierre in case all she understood was names. Krista looked down at the man in her arms. Pierre was dead. He died in order to save her; he took the bullet that would have ended her life. Ignoring this opportunity and letting Pierre die in vain would be worse than letting him die in the first place, and her heart could not bear that thought.

Slowly, Krista nodded her head and let Webster take Pierre away. He moved him to a corner of the room and closed his eyes. No longer would he have to stare at this horrible world he had come to know; he could go home now.

Krista let Guarnere help her up. It had been so long since she stood, her legs were practically numb. She fell against him and got another look at his eyes. They were dark yet warm and filled with concern. She should not have been angry with him. Concern is unworthy of hatred. This only made Krista feel more ashamed of herself.

"Alright, out the door! Webster, take point!" Webster grabbed his rifle and bolted out the door to the other side of the street. From there, he could see both sides. To their right was the advancing Germans, to their left were the retreating Allies. Guarnere ran out the door next with a terrified Krista leaning on him until she could regain strength in her legs. Liebgott followed last, still watching the inside of the house for any sign of the enemy.

The four made their way through the city, exploding buildings and ricocheting bullets following them and every other group of retreating men. Krista did not look up. She followed wherever Guarnere pulled her, not wishing to see the devastation occurring around them.

The group ducked behind a building where three other men were. One looked to be talking, actually shouting, into a phone strapped to his back. The other two consisted of an injured man being helped by a medic. His whole upper body seemed to be covered by bandages. He was worse off than Pierre had been. Guarnere let Krista lean against the wall of the building, where she slid to the ground. Her eyes began to dart in every direction. She watched men to her left and right, Americans, being shot or blown up. Her gaze quickly moved to the grass once again.

The man with the phone looked over at them. "Hey guys don't stay here. We…holy shit. What happened to her?" A thought struck Krista. After what happened to Pierre, she had completely forgotten about herself. Her light green dress had blood everywhere, a combination of Pierre's, hers and another SS officer whose nose was now broken because of her. There were cuts along the sides of her face, as well as one that ran from her neck to well down her chest. Bruises undoubtedly were everywhere. She was probably not the most attractive thing at the moment.

"Doesn't matter, Luz, just fall back!" Guarnere shouted. He fired his weapon at the Germans on the other side. Krista listened to the sound of it going off just over her head, though she still refused to look up. It had a dull, repetitious sound to it. If she listened close enough, there was almost a little 'pop' when each of the bullets left. This was unlike anything she had heard before and, somehow, it fascinated her.

When Guarnere turned to reload, something fell before them. It rolled onto the grass that she stared at, mere inches away from her feet. The size and shape were so familiar to her. She had seen this object before. Boys back at home would carve these things out of wood and toss them at each other; even she had become a casualty when her brother chucked one at her head. Except, this was not a toy, no, this was the real thing that the soldiers carried around. That was why boys would carve them and pretend to fight; they wished to be just like them.

It was a grenade.

Krista stared at it, not moving, not breathing. No one else had noticed yet. By the time they did, it would be too late.

She could toss it far away from them, she had a good arm but, for some reason, she did not move. So many times she had tossed these back at home but now she could not pick it up. Was it because she feared it would blow as soon as she touched it? Well, of course it was. This was not the piece of wood she was used to tossing, but if she did not touch it, it would not just sit there like the toys had.

It was when she had grasped the handle that someone else noticed the situation. They shouted "grenade!" as she threw it as hard as as possible away from them and anyone else in the area. Before it hit the ground, the grenade exploded with a dull 'bang,' kicking up dirt where it would have landed.

Krista looked around. All eyes were on her; even the medic had stopped working on the injured man for a few moments. She looked up at Guarnere whose face bore more surprise but there was a smile not far behind.

"That's my girl." His smile vanished quickly as he got back to business. "Alright guys, let's get out of here! Liebgott, help Roe with this guy." Liebgott walked over to the medic, after picking his jaw off the ground, and dragged the injured man away. "Luz, go with them."

"Jesus, did you see that? She's got a hell of an arm." 'Luz' did not stare out of surprise, just more out of curiosity. There was a funny look on his face that would have made Krista laugh under different circumstances.

"Luz, go!" Guarnere pulled 'Luz' off the wall.

"Yeah, you got it!" He ran after the other two providing cover along the way.

Guarnere began firing again. "Webster, grab her and go! I'll be right behind you!" When Webster reached for her, she had no hesitations. The two bolted down to the road with Guarnere following close behind. That was until he found two guys running back toward the town and took off after them. Krista saw him leave, as did Webster, but she did nothing except pray another rescuer would not die.

Krista's legs had recovered now and she was able to keep up with the much taller Webster as they ran along down the road passing bodies of dead and injured men. Others were working quickly to get them out. They approached two men watching the others run in. Each had two gold bars on their helmets. The darker haired one seemed to notice her.

"Is that a girl?" He asked as they passed by. Krista looked back in time to see the man fall over as if he had been shot.

She did not know what took hold of her but something would not let her leave him. Krista pried loose of Webster's grasp and ran back to the man, who was now being aided by the other. She fell on her knees near his head and looked him over, ignored at the moment. The man was fine, a little shaken but fine. He looked up at the other man with two bars, this one had red hair.

"I'm alright; I'm alright…am I alright?"

"Yeah, Nix, you're fine." replied the red head, his voice a little shaky.

"Then stop looking at me like that." 'Nix' looked up at her. "Shit, it is a girl. Is she yours?" He asked as Webster ran over.

"Uh, ye...yes sir." Webster grabbed her arm but did not pull her away. He seemed to be waiting for the red head to speak. The man looked her over, stopping at each one of her cuts and eventually ending at her blood stained dress, debating what he should say.

He looked up at Webster. "Get her in the truck." The man did not need to say it twice. Webster pulled Krista up and they ran over to the nearest one. There were already a few men onboard who looked on curiously as Krista stepped onto the vehicle. They did not ask any questions, their faces did that for them. She ignored the men and quickly headed for the back, nearly losing her balance for her legs had begun to shake again. Instead of sitting on one of the benches on either side of the truck, she moved toward the back corner and sat on the floor, leaning back against the cab. Adrenaline gone, she began to feel weak. It suddenly occurred to her she could not remember the last time she had eaten.

Other men began to board the truck, one, two at a time. Most paid her no attention; they were distracted by their own thoughts. She preferred it that way.

Her thoughts began to creep back, deep, depressing things that the battle had hidden. His face appeared again, dead and questioning. Krista stared through the buildings in the distance, looking for the one that contained him. Blame resumed its torture of her soul. Pierre was dead and it was her fault. And so the process began again as she leaned her head back, closing her eyes to hide the city from her view, allowing one small tear to make its way down her cheek. She never allowed more than that, not anymore.

Webster did not sit next to her. He kept his distance; she needed space. But on the ride back from the line, he watched her closely, thinking about how much her eyes looked like his.

* * *

**July 1942**

**Soest, Germany**

When the doors were slammed open a second time, Krista thought that Dieter and Arick had found something else to celebrate about but when she heard expensive antiques crashing to the ground followed by silence, she knew it was not them.

_"Hello?"_ She had made it halfway down the stairs before her father rushed up to meet her. The look on his face disturbed her, there was fear in it. _"Father…what's wrong?"_ He said nothing but brushed past her quickly, grabbing her arm and dragging her up with him. She nearly tripped several times he was moving so fast.

He let go as he entered her room. Ripping open the closet, her father began to rummage through her clothing. Krista just stared at him, jaw slightly lower than usual.

"_Father, what are you doing?"_ He did not answer. _"Look, that boy kissed me on a dare, if Dieter or Arick said anything else, they were lying."_ When her father did not react to that, she became concerned. True, the house had been under a lot of tension for the past few weeks but this was not something she had expected. "_Father I-″_

"_This will not do."_ He finally said, standing back from the closet. "_You have no traveling clothes. A couple skirts, yes, but you will need pants._" He walked briskly out of her room to Dieter's across the hallway.

"_Why do I need pants_?" Krista asked as she stood in her doorway.

"_In case they find you!_" Her father shouted from Dieter's room.

"_In case who finds me? Father, you're not making any sense_." A pair of pants was tossed her way which she barely had time to catch. She looked down at them. They were Dieter's. "_How do you expect these to fit me?"_ Krista could not believe she just said that. It was as if she had already agreed to whatever it was her father wanted her to do. The man had that affect on people.

"_They're old. They'll fit_." He moved back into her room and pulled her suitcase out from under her bed; he opened it and began to toss some bits of clothing in it. "_I must get you out of here. They will come for me soon. Hopefully it is not too late_."

'Get me out of here? Come for him soon? Too late?' What was her father talking about?

He turned to her. "_Do not worry about it right now. Hurry, put on those pants and your traveling coat, remember the one I bought you for Christmas?"_ Krista nodded slowly as her father departed her room. She stripped out of her dress and quickly put on the pants. Her father was right, they did fit. Finally in pants, if only it had been under different circumstances.

Krista ran to her closet and dug through her disheveled clothing for the jacket her father was talking about. It was a light thing but sturdy and necessary for this 'trip.' The year had been unusually cool. She grabbed it quickly, as well as her suitcase, and ran down the stairs after her father. He was in the kitchen putting together a collection of papers. The man did not notice her at first so she snuck up quietly. On one of the papers was a picture that she could almost make out.

The floorboard creaked, giving away her position. The papers were hastily put away into a small folder and then into an equally small backpack.

He turned to Krista. "_You cannot see these, not yet. You are not ready and this is not the place."_ Without any other acknowledgment of her presence, her father ran out the door to the car parked terribly in front of the house. Clearly he had been in a hurry for a long time. He opened the door, grabbed the suitcase from Krista's weak grip, and tossed it in the seat along with the backpack. "_Krista, you know how to drive, yes_?"

"_Well, of course I do. I mean, I nearly failed the test but I-″_ His hand grabbed her jacket and pulled her into the driver's seat.

"_You must drive yourself to the train station and-″_

"_The train station? What are you-″_ His hand now covered her mouth.

"_You must drive yourself to the train station and purchase a ticket bound for Strasbourg. There is a man waiting there for you, he will take you to safety. You do not need to know his name, he will find you. Keep that backpack with you at all times; you cannot lose it_." He tried to shut the door but Krista stopped him. Enough was enough. She climbed out of the car and stood face to face with her father. He was not that much taller than she was; Dieter's height was quite unusual for their family.

"_No, I am not going anywhere until you tell me why I have to leave in the first place and why you are not coming with_." She crossed her arms and got prepared for anything from a long wait to a screaming session typical of a general like her father. Nothing was going to stop her now.

He sighed. _"I was hoping you would just agree and leave."_

_"I'm your daughter, remember? Heredity does exist."_

There was a long silence. _"Okay, but I must say this quick and without much detail. Eyes and ears are everywhere in this country. At approximately six thirty tomorrow morning newspapers will be delivered throughout all of Europe describing how the fuehrer survived a devastating assassination attempt. It will mention the name of a man that I happen to know. He is weak and will soon give up mine. I do not want them getting to me through you."_

Krista's heart began to beat faster as the fear was pushed through her blood. _"But, why would he say your name? You have done nothing. You are innocent!...Right?"_ His silence gave her the answer. _"You…you tried to…_" She fell back into the car looking down at her now shaking hands then, once again, she looked up at her father. "_How could you? Why would you do such a thing?"_

Her father grabbed her hands and tried to warm them. _"Try to understand when I say this: nothing is what you think it is. Our bliss has come at a grave price. Do not believe everything you hear._" They sat in silence a moment until sirens in the distance made both jump. It was not heading in their direction but that did not matter. The door shut on Krista.

_"Please go."_ Her father never pleaded before. This brought upon her even more fear.

She began to turn the key in the ignition then stopped. _"What about Dieter?"_

_"He will probably be the one who arrests me."_ Krista was stunned silent. _"GO!"_ She turned the key and hit the gas. Her father disappeared slowly from view in the mirror.

* * *

Krista stared at the ticket then looked out the window of her train car. There were people moving along like usual, unaware of anything in life, including what nearly happened to Hitler. Then they would read the papers tomorrow and curse whoever tried to do such a thing not realizing that they had passed by the man's daughter just the other day. Or maybe they would realize it and send the SS after her. Perhaps Dieter would arrest her as well, or maybe Arick…

'Stop! Stop.' She told herself. This was crazy. No one was going to arrest her; she had done nothing wrong. Then why was she running? Because her father had said so and she always did what was told of her. Usually. Sometimes. Normally, she would have ignored what he had said but the genuine fear in his eyes forced her to go.

But why should she listen to her father? He had tried to kill their leader. He may have been nice at home but maybe deep inside he was some power hungry monster. No, her father was not like that. Remember what he said 'do not believe everything you hear.'

Then should she believe what her father said? Of course! He would not have said that otherwise.

_"Krista Nimholtz!"_ Startled, Krista jumped slightly which led to some laughter from her visitor. She looked over.

_"Arick, how dare you scare me like that!"_ The tone of her voice threw him off for a moment. He put his hands up in surrender.

_"Sorry. I didn't know it would upset you like this. If I had known, I would not have done it."_

Krista sat back in her seat. _"It's okay. I'm just a little wound up right now."_

_"I can see that."_ He stepped into the car. His blonde hair was barely noticeable now; he had cut it so short. _"I need to check your baggage."_

_"SS men have nothing better to do with their time?"_

_"Oh, I'm not in the SS. Not cut out for it. No, I'll just serve the cause another way by looking for spies on a train."_ He did not notice her eyes as they widened; he was grabbing her suitcase from the shelf above. _"Sorry there are no women to do this but if I find anything-″_

_"No, it's okay."_ She blurted out a little too fast.

Arick gave her a funny look. _"Are you sure you're alright?"_

_"I'm fine."_ She began to tap the window as he searched through her clothing.

_"Not a fan of folding, are you?"_ He said not expecting a reply. _"Where are all of your tops? You women have strange packing methods."_

Her eyes narrowed. _"It would be much appreciated if you kept you comments on how I pack to yourself."_

He looked up and smiled. _"Now that's the Krista I know."_ Zipping up the suitcase, he placed it back above her head. _"Is there anything else I need to look through?"_

Krista stood. _"No, I think that's it."_

Arick eyed the object behind her. _"What about that back there?"_

_"Oh, that's just books."_ She said attempting to stand in the way. Normally, this would bring up several warning flags but Arick would never expect this from people he knew, especially Krista seeing as how he had a crush on her.

_"Well, I still need to check it. It's just a procedure. Besides you have nothing to hide."_ He grabbed the small backpack.

_"No…of course not..."_ Krista watched him slowly begin to unzip it. She had to think of something quick or the SS would be arresting her. _"Umm…Arick?"_ He looked up at her. She would have to do this quick before she changed her mind. Grabbing his chin, she planted a kiss on his lips. Arick was surprised at first but soon kissed her back, fulfilling a lifelong dream.

Krista nearly gagged. First, she had never liked the boy. He was fun but not someone she would ever kiss. Second, his breath smelled atrocious but she tolerated it long enough until she had the backpack safely in her custody again, then she pulled back.

Arick sat with the funniest look on his face: satisfaction mixed with surprise and wonder. _"Wow…"_ The train whistle blew. _"Shoot! I have to go. Take care of those books for me!"_ The instant Arick left the car, Krista wiped her face on the sleeve of her jacket and suppressed the need to spit. She looked down at the backpack. It contained a bunch of papers that she had absolutely no idea about yet she was willing to kiss a boy that she would never have otherwise in order to protect its secret. What else was she willing to do for this unknown cargo?

This _was _crazy! How could she risk her life for this? She knew nothing! Must she be thrown in prison for something she had no idea about? Her father thought he was protecting her when he was actually placing her into even more danger. What would happen if they caught her later on? How could she explain why she was running away from them? No one would ever believe her, not with something as serious as this.

It was now that she made a decision. She could run up to Arick right now and explain everything. He would find a way to help her. True, she would have to tell him how revolting the kiss was but that was something that she was more than willing to deal with. They could find a was to make a deal for her father, say that he was forced somehow. Her father was a highly respected man in the German army, surely some good could come from that.

As she was about to leave her car, the train began to move and soon pulled out of the station. This caused her to do something that she never did: swear.

* * *

Wow...that was the longest thing I have ever written. I hope you guys liked it! Vacation's coming up soon and I'm going to be heading to my cabin (and Grand Marais!! Yay!!) and then I have to take the ACT so you won't be hearing from me for a while. But don't worry, I'll be back!

Luck!


	3. Learning Something New

Whoo! I'm back! Wow, just got finished taking my ACT. I hate it! Thank goodness I'm done. Cross my fingers, hope I get a good score.

Thanks so much for all the reviews! You people are amazing!

**ReinetteNarbonne  
Raging Raven  
Isaboo  
BrokenAngel1753**

**I'm am worshipping you as well! You see me! Yeah, don't I look dumb...**

Here's an even longer chapter. I don't know how I'm doing this but somehow I am.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Learning Something New**

**September 1944**

**Tongelre, Holland**

Krista's dreamless sleep ended abruptly throwing her into a world she did not recognize. First thing out of place was what she lied on: a bed. Not dirt or the floor or a chair but a comfortable mattress with a pillow to boot. She looked around the room. It was fairly large complete with a closet, desk, and a little nightstand next to her bed.

Where was she? Her captors would never have been so kind even with Dieter…

Dieter. How could he? He shot…

Pierre.

All of the day's events returned to her mind in a rapid succession, each blow worse than the last. Shoved in the closet with him in her arms, Liebgott and Webster finding her there, leaving him, the grenade, Guarnere left, 'Nix', the truck, darkness. Someone must have carried her here. Well, of course, she could not have walked in her sleep. So here she was, once again, alone in a room with her thoughts.

Krista bolted upright, breathing hard. She had to get out of this room, get into a hallway, outdoors, anywhere that did not include four walls with no escape. If she remained, the thoughts will strangle her out of revenge for Pierre. She could not think of him; she needed an escape, a distraction, anything.

Ignoring the cries of pain from her sore and tired muscles, Krista leapt out of the bed and reached for the door. Just as she was about to grab the knob, it began to turn and voices could be heard in the hallway. Back in the bed before she knew it, Krista faced the wall and shut her eyes tight.

The door slowly opened; two figures looked inside.

"Well, there she is plain as day. I guess I owe you five bucks." said a voice that Krista did not recognize.

"Look, Harry, I never agreed to a bet." It was 'Nix.' Her eyes clenched tighter.

"Since when are you not a betting man?"

"I just came to drop these off for her." 'Nix' stepped into the room to put down some clothes on the nightstand. Krista opened her eyes and watched his shadow.

"Yeah, how'd you get those anyway?"

"An Intelligence Officer never tells." 'Nix' stopped and looked at her for a moment, wondering what kind of hell she had been through. She reminded him of someone but he just could not remember who it was.

"Intelligence Officer or scrounger?" Shaken from his thoughts, 'Nix' walked back to the door and put his arm around 'Harry.'

"Same thing, Harry, same thing." Quietly, 'Nix' shut the door. As soon as their footsteps were out of earshot, Krista slid out of the bed, much slower this time. The floorboard creaked and she froze in place. No one outside the room was paying attention, though, so she continued on her way.

Krista looked at the bundle of clothing 'Nix' had left for her. It was just simple stuff: a blue skirt, blouse, nice jacket, a sweet gesture that no one had provided for her in a long while and only by one person…Pierre. It was his blood on her dress now that prompted the kindness.

Her hand touched the fabric, its smooth, clean texture comforting in a way. Then she looked down at her own outfit, stained red with blood. The memories would follow if she did not change. Slowly, she took off the pieces of clothing and placed them on the bed. Standing in front of a mirror that was behind the door, with only her undergarments on, Krista gave herself a once over. If anyone was to come now, she did not care.

The bruises that may have been on her arms and legs were gone now, but the ones on her face were much more prevalent. A few small ones dotted her forehead and face while a rather large one sat on her right cheekbone courtesy of the SS officer with the broken nose. They did not hurt at the moment but she knew the pain would return. The dark spots on her face only emphasized her scrawny, pale body. Her ribs were slightly visible. Meager rationing would do that to one. The cut on her chest, dark red from dried blood, stuck out more than ever now. Krista traced its line without putting any pressure on the wound. She knew it would be painful to the touch. Memories of the torture began to flood her mind and she quickly pulled her hand away.

Movement on the floor brought Krista out of her thoughts. How ridiculous she must look just standing there in her undergarments! She eased the clothing on as quickly as possible, making sure the cut was covered, and exited the room without another look lest the memories drag her back in.

* * *

Bill Guarnere stood outside the aid station, which occupied a building on the edge of town, debating if he should light the cigarette in his mouth. It would be the fourth one in about twenty minutes. He would not go into the aid station by himself, no, he needed an excuse to go in. Thinking of everything short of shooting himself in the foot, Guarnere opted to wait for someone to come by, particularly a medic. There was a certain girl he wanted to check on and, at the moment, he had no idea where they had put her.

A solution presented itself in the form of Eugene Roe, a medic no less and a good one too. He was carrying a box of supplies that had just arrived and did not look too happy. Guarnere wondered if he should talk to the guy or not. The decision, though, was not his to make.

Roe stopped in front of Guarnere and sighed. "You're the third person today who's asked me how she's doing."

"Who said I was gonna ask about her?" Roe gave him a look and Guarnere back down. "Yeah, okay…so what if I am?"

Roe fixed his grip on the box. "Right now, she needs to be alone. The girl has been through a lot and needs to rest. With all the guys sneaking up there all the time to catch a glimpse of her, I'm surprised she's even getting any. Come back later." He began to head inside but Guarnere grabbed his arm.

"Well, uh, what if she's awake now?" Roe was silent, waiting for more. "I mean, if she's up there all alone and someone like you comes barging in, she'll freak. I know she's seen you before but she don't know your name." 'Unlike me.' He added silently to himself.

The medic sighed once again and walked into the aid station. Guarnere took that as a 'follow me' and tossed his cigarette to the ground. He would probably regret that later.

Smell was the first sense that was hit when one entered the aid station. Death, blood, disease, they all had a pungent smell that combined with a force that was enough to knock a grown man to his knees. The ears caught up next, filled with screams of pain and cries for mothers. It was sight that was the last sense to come to because it was hard to believe at first. Men missing limbs, faces, any part of their body. Now Guarnere remembered why he never came in to these places.

Men lined all parts of the floor so there was only a narrow corridor to walk through. One had to tiptoe through to make sure they did not step on anyone. The building may have been three floors but it was awfully small. Many of the rooms were taken up for emergency surgeries.

Roe handed the box to a private and then continued on to the stairs nearby. Guarnere followed quickly, not wanting to be around the area anymore. He hated hospitals and anything that resembled them.

Once up the stairs, there were no more men in the hallways. Roe decided to vent his anger here. He knew it would not make a difference, Guarnere could not do anything about it, but he needed to say something now before he yelled at one of his patients.

"You know, she's lucky to have a bed much less a room. As you can see, we've got so many boys piling in here, they're lining the hallways downstairs…we'll have to bring them up here soon enough." He stopped in front of a door but did not open it. "Now, I know she's been through a lot but all she has are a couple cuts. There are people down there missing legs who have nothing but a blanket to sit on!"

Guarnere reached back and scratched his head. The situation just got awkward for him. "Geez, I'm sorry Doc. I understand, I really do but you know they had to bring her in here. The last thing we need is for that girl to wake up in a room full of injured guys…in a room full of guys period." Roe was quiet. Guarnere glanced at all the walls for a second. "'Sides, it's the least we can do. After all, she did save our lives."

Roe's look softened. "Yeah, I know…but I'd rather give my life back than have those boys out in the hallway to be stepped on by some distracted replacement." Guarnere nodded in agreement. "But the fact is that she is asleep in a room that could hold at least four guys, maybe more. Save my life or not, the minute she's awake, I need her out."

"Well, where should I put her then?"

Roe began to open the door. "I don't know, Guarnere. It's not my problem." While he entered the room, Guarnere stayed outside wondering what he was going to do with the girl. It was not like he could bring her outside and set her in a foxhole for the night. Maybe one of the civilians would take her. They loved the Americans after being liberated, though maybe not so much now. Their return was not exactly the most glorious of any.

"Looks like she's ahead of me." said Roe from inside the room. Guarnere, confused, walked inside. All that was inside were the bloody clothes that she once wore.

"Where'd she…oh shit." Guarnere bolted out of the room to go look for her. Roe, wanting to help, headed back downstairs. There were injured men that needed to be taken care of first.

* * *

Krista walked silently through the hallways of the building watching each room carefully. The last thing she needed was to run into someone. Things went rather smooth at first. She had not seen anyone for a while but there would be an occasional noise she jumped at. Once she rounded a corner, though, things changed.

Stretchers lined the hallway on either side providing little room for the caretakers as they shuffled from patient to patient. One nearly plowed into Krista before she backed up into the hallway. The medic absently grabbed her hand and pulled her back.

"Hold this." He placed her hand on an open wound and went to work on it. The feeling of blood all over her hand was an all too familiar one. This time, though, the body from which it came was still alive. Krista worked up the nerve to look down. The boy was young, most likely younger than her. Half of his face was covered with blood, the results of a German grenade. The wound that she covered was in his chest. It was a gaping hole that did not look like it would ever stop bleeding. She could not even tell if the boy was breathing; if he was, she did not know how.

The boy's eyes suddenly flew open and he took a deep, gasping breath that startled Krista. Taking her hand off the wound, she flew back against the wall and just stared at the boy. The medic whispered some words of comfort to the boy before looking up at her.

"Hey, what are you…" His eyes widened as he got a good look at her.

Unnerved by the situation, Krista stood quickly and ran down the hallway, the medic's calls chasing her along the way. She could not see anything except the blood; she was tired of seeing blood. Forgetting about Pierre and her fear of being trapped, Krista tried every door she found until one opened up for her. Slamming it shut, Krista bolted for the nearest corner and sat, pulling her knees up tight and burying her head in them. She sat like that for a while, calming herself, until the sound of someone clearing their throat caught her attention. It suddenly occurred to her that this room might not be hers and that someone else might be in it.

Slowly, Krista looked up to meet the very blue eyes of a man lying on a cot in front of her. Fear kept her from moving any further. For a while, they just stared at each other, him unsure of what to say, her unsure of what to do. Without knowing it, Krista began to wipe the blood off her hand onto the new skirt. On for less than ten minutes and it already had a blood stain.

The man took notice of this movement and looked at her with concern. "Is it…is it yours?" Krista lifted her head up more, giving him a confused look. She did not understand.

He thought about it a minute, then he motioned to her hand. "The blood, is it yours?" She looked down at her hand and seemed to understand. Krista shook her head.

He nodded. "Guess one of the medics got to you. He must have been surprised." He laughed a little but found himself alone in that effort. "Someone told me you recognize names. I'm Buck Compton." He offered a hand. Krista did not move. "Yeah…okay, never mind." Withdrawing the greeting, Compton sat silent for a moment. It gave Krista an opportunity to look him over. He was a big man, tall and built, probably an athlete. That was something her brother could never do, nor could Arick. Compton could, most likely, break the two of them in half they were so scrawny. He was lying on his stomach because there were bandages on his backside; he had been hit in the butt. Normally, this would have brought a smile to her face and laughter.

"We were in the same truck, you know." Compton said not caring it was a one-sided conversation. "I saw you but you looked a little too out of it to see me. You fell asleep and Webster had to carry you out. Yeah, Webster, you know him." He said seeing her reaction. Krista seemed to relax a little after hearing a familiar name. "Some of the guys looked a little jealous of him. Guess they wanted to carry the girl. He didn't leave until he was sure you had a room to yourself, haven't seen him since, though. Probably has OP duty." Krista listened to him talk. Slowly, she began to bring down her knees and let herself lean back against the wall. Compton had a nice voice, it was almost relaxing. Perhaps that was because it did not carry a German accent.

"A lot of the guys were worried about you, even though they don't know who you are. They took one look at your face and got a little pale. I guess some people discovered one reason why we're over here. What kind of person locks a girl up with…" Compton stopped himself before he went further though the expression on Krista's face remained the same. "I knew you'd be alright though. The Dutch are tough people. You guys have been at this for almost five years…at least they didn't shoot you." Compton pointed to his bandages. "Unlike me. Can you believe it? One bullet, four holes."

Krista began to laugh only to abruptly stop as she saw Compton's eyes widen. Hers did as well. They stared at each other, silent again.

Compton cleared his throat once more. "So, uh... how much English do you know?"

Krista looked at the ceiling then her feet then met his eyes. She sighed. "Enough to know what you said."

* * *

**July 1942**

**Outside Strasbourg, France**

The train had been on the move for what seemed to be an eternity though it could not have been more than an hour, maybe two, maybe less. Krista stared out the window the entire time without seeing any of the scenery. She was thinking of the hundreds of ways the Gestapo could kill her. First it had been basic things but now her mind was getting creative.

No one sat with her during the ride. Not many people were on this train. Some were off to see Italy; others were in Austria enjoying its mountainous beauty. France seemed rather dull compared to the other conquered lands.

Conquered lands. How easily that rolled off the tongue. People wandered through these countries without a thought, without a care that months before Germany had been at war with them. As far as many were concerned, Europe was Germany.

Screeching from the brakes hinted that the train was slowing down. They were finally coming into town, Strasbourg or whatever it was. Krista sat up and looked around. The train was still in the middle of a forest. Certainly this could not be the train station.

The conductor walked through all the train cars attempting to reassure the passengers.

"_This is just a routine stop._" He said, voice shaking. "We _just have some men coming aboard to, uh…check on the luggage_." Krista did not believe him neither did the other passengers. SS. Gestapo. Maybe worse. All looking for someone.

Krista sunk in her seat. She knew who they were after. This was no longer paranoia; this was real and they would catch her running. She had no choice now.

Grabbing the bag her father gave her, Krista made her way to the other end of the car. Already near the front voices could be heard. Loud, shouting, demanding- clearly people that had no business with the luggage. Her heart began to skip several beats at a time. Krista moved through each car quickly not caring about who or what she pushed into.

"_Oh! Excuse me! Can you believe the young people these days? No respect at all!"_

"_What rudeness! I would expect this from boys but from a young lady? How are parents raising their children these days, like wolves?"_

She could not hear their insults and accusations; it was all drowned out by the sound of her own heart and when it skipped a beat, her breathing filled the void. She was blind to everything around her. Not thinking straight either, when she hit the last car, Krista ripped open the door not acknowledging the fact that someone would be guarding the exit.

Krista froze as she locked eyes with a member of the SS standing along the railroad tracks waiting for idiots like her to come running out. Normally, it would have been over in an instant but this boy was new. This was probably his first assignment; she could tell by how he jumped when the door opened suddenly.

They stood silent for a moment, both frozen by utter disbelief.

'Think of something. Think of something quick!' Her mind screamed. It was so loud she thought for certain the boy would hear but all he did was stare. Quickly, her eyes darted to the weapon he held. Submachine gun, MP40, she had seen them before. It was without a doubt her least favorite. Fate just could not get enough of her today.

"_Hurry...Come Quickly!"_ Krista stammered. "_There…there is a passenger inside waving a gun! He might shoot!"_ Putting on her best performance, Krista tried to act like a frightened citizen. It was enough to convince the boy. He jumped onto the car and ran inside but not before telling her to stay put. Ignoring his order, Krista bolted into the woods and prayed that no one saw her. Unfortunately, a clean escape was not the outcome.

A more experienced member of the SS was standing in the woods waiting for any people coming off the train. He was the one who put the boy in back in order to observe him; he did not trust the boy and now he knew why. The boy would receive his just punishment later. In the meantime, it did not take the man long to grab Krista. He more or less had to tackle her to the ground but he caught her just the same. The backpack she was carrying flew out of her hands spilling some papers on the forest floor. Krista gave a little shriek.

"_Ah, I have you now_." He turned Krista over. She fought as hard as she could but her strength was not enough. Her eyes filled with terror as they met his. No story of some lunatic waving a gun would get her out of this. "_Tell me, young lady, why were you running? What, no answer? Oh, but you have one. You look just like the general_." She could not say anything; there was no point. Her father could not save her.

A gunshot rang out. The man fell to the ground, dead. Krista gave a louder shriek.

Footsteps approached. Another man, not in uniform, ran over to her. He tossed his rifle and grabbed the backpack, stuffed the papers back inside, and then grabbed her arm. Krista had gone limp and was easy to pick up.

"_Come, we must go! They'll be wondering where that shot came from!"_ This man spoke German but his accent was clearly French. The Resistance! Krista had heard much about them. Mostly from her brother's ranting but she knew about them nonetheless. They had cost the German army some money, and patience, though it was not enough to get rid of them.

He handed her the backpack. "_Take this and do not lose it ever again or all we are fighting for will be lost_!" Picking the rifle up again, the Frenchman half dragged, half led Krista through the forest. He was moving so fast that Krista was constantly tripping over her feet and falling over. After receiving several curses in French, she finally got it together and was able to keep up.

The two approached a small, moss covered cabin that seemed randomly placed in the woods. It also appeared to be abandoned. The Frenchman's pace quickened. He ran up to the door and threw it open, tossing Krista inside. The door slammed shut, leaving them alone in darkness. She could hear his feet shuffling around and then, what appeared to be, the sound of moving furniture. His hand grabbed her once again.

"_Down here_!" Krista felt herself fall through a hole in the floor. Once she hit the dirt, she crawled away fast for soon the rifle followed, then the Frenchman. He pulled whatever it was he had moved back and then joined her in the small corner she had found. "_Krista Nimholtz_." He said, grabbing her shoulders. His eyes fell into some light and she got a good look at the color: a light hazel, warm and friendly. Her father was the only other person she had met with eyes that warm that could handle a weapon. "_My name is Pierre Durand. I know your father. Would not exactly call myself a friend, but close enough. I am here to keep you safe_."

When Krista spoke, she found her voice small and meek. "_My…my father…what happened?"_

"_That will be taken care of soon enough, for now just-″_ Upstairs, the door opened once more and footsteps entered the cabin. There were at least two people. Pierre fell back against the foundation next to Krista. He grabbed his rifle and, with one hand, followed the footsteps.

"_I don't know why anyone would hide in here. They ought to know that we would check_." said one of the men.

"_Where else would they hide? It's at least three miles of forest in every direction."_ stated another.

"_Still, it is stupid."_ The first one replied. "_I would not hide in here, not with the floor the way it is. This place feels like it might-″_ He was cut off as the floor collapsed under one of his feet. His leg fell about halfway through the floor causing a scream to make its way out of Krista's throat but it was quickly stifled by Pierre's hand. He wrapped his arm around her head and pulled her back against him.

"_Do not worry."_ He whispered. "_They will not find us here."_

The other German began to laugh. "_Hans, you fat idiot. Come here._" The two men grunted as Hans was pulled from the floorboards. "_If there was anyone here, this would have gotten them. Come, let's go." _Soon, the footsteps disappeared. Pierre relaxed his grip on Krista and moved to the other side. Now that her eyes had adjusted, she could see that he had a makeshift bed set up over there.

Pierre tossed the rifle. "_Suggest we don't move until nightfall; have to make sure they're not still around."_

Krista turned to him, her body shaking. "_What do we do then?"_

He pointed to the floorboards. _"We move upstairs."_

"_My father…what did he want?"_

"_What? Want me to do with you?"_ Krista nodded. "_He wanted me to take you to Switzerland but it is far too late for that now. I guess your father did not expect the SS to get wind of his involvement so fast. The second choice was Spain but I don't trust them. Too many men out there helping the Nazi's cause. So, England is the next best choice."_

For the first time that whole day, Krista nearly laughed. "_And you trust the English?"_

"_True, they aren't Frenchmen but they aren't occupied and have a nice little channel to protect him. Which reminds me… here."_ He tossed a small book over to Krista. "_It's a little dark to read but keep it for later_."

"_What is it?"_

"_A German-English dictionary."_ He saw her look. "_What? You don't expect to speak German the whole time and get away with it, do you? I'm not going to hold your hand throughout this_." With that, Pierre stretched out on his bed and covered his eyes with a hat. Krista could not believe what she was seeing. They had nearly been discovered by men that were probably out to kill both of them, he had killed one, and now he was taking a nap! His lack of caring was most disturbing. She hoped not all Frenchmen were like this.

"_Oh, by the way."_ He said, lifting up the hat. "_Don't go in the light."_ Pierre pointed to the lovely hole in the floorboards then proceeded to pass out. Krista grabbed her knees and brought them close, thinking the whole thing over. How many times had she nearly been killed today. Three? Four? What would the tomorrow bring? And the next? What if Pierre never got her to England? What if…oh, there were too many 'what ifs' to count. She would get a headache thinking about them all.

Krista looked at the backpack leaning against her feet. What was in there that could be so important? One man was already dead over it, how many more would have to die? Could a simple thing as paper really be that important? Was it really important enough to kill their leader? What evil things existed that she did not know about?

"_Father, what have you gotten me into?"_

* * *

Well, there it is! I hope you guys liked it. Not going on vacation for a while so I should get another chapter out to you guys soon!

H.A.G.S.


	4. No Longer German

So, summer has been good so far. Just hanging out with my friends, sleeping in and totally falling in love with 'summertime' by NKOTB! Go Donnie! When I first watched BoB, I did not know he was a singer so watching it now makes me laugh, in a good way of course. Love ya Donnie!

I typed most of this today. That's about six hours of work right there. I have nothing else to do with my life at the moment.

**Falicienne  
I'm currently worshipping you as well. Or I'm fanning you and the others because I don't know about you guys, but it is warm over here in Minnesota. We could use some rain over here.**

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Four: No Longer German**

**September 1944**

**Tongelre, Holland**

More staring, that was exactly what she needed. Always the center of attention, never could fade into the walls. For a moment, Krista's memory drifted back to a little play in grammar school. She had to stand in the center of the stage alone and say a few simple lines. Fear prevented that and she ran offstage. The audience was too dark, she could not see them, but she felt their eyes. The feeling of everyone watching you was the most horrific feeling in the world, at least, it was then. She had run into a few things much worse now.

This was just one man, though. Not an audience, not even a small group of men, it was one man. Krista sighed and opened her mouth to speak, though she did not know what to say. Footsteps outside cut her off.

Someone was coming.

Krista leapt up and ran to the nearby closet. She opened the door and crept inside. Shutting it behind her, she looked over at Compton whose expression had yet to change.

"I am not around." The door clicked shut and Compton could not help but smile. Her sentence made sense but was vastly different from the usual 'I'm not here' that he heard. Already over the surprise of the girl speaking English, Compton put his head down and pretended to sleep. This was war; men were bound to see weird things. It was actually not that surprising. Plenty of Dutch people spoke English, maybe she just did not want him to know.

The door to his room swung open and in stepped Guarnere who wore a look of concern that was unusual for him. At least, Compton had never seen it.

"Hey, Buck, sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep but have you seen a girl wandering 'round here?"

Compton smiled. "No, but if a leg breaks through the ceiling, I'll let you know." He found the new look on Guarnere's face amusing.

"That's very funny…no, I'm talking about that girl on the truck, you saw her. Long, dark brown hair, gray eyes, bruises on her face and an outfit that's blue; at least, I think it is. Skinny, pale thing, scared out of her wits, kinda hard to miss." Compton shook his head. Of course Guarnere had every detail of the girl down, that was typical Wild Bill right there.

"No, I have not seen her around." He placed a slight emphasis on the last word which Guarnere did not catch. And, though the closet door was shut, Compton could feel the hatred radiating from that direction. Krista knew he had done that on purpose. Somehow, even though her English was not the greatest, she knew. Mockery was a universal language.

"Oh…well, just look out for her, okay? Try to keep her in the room if she comes by."

"And how do you suggest I do that, Bill?" Guarnere quickly glanced at the bandages. It was not like Buck could just grab her. He wouldn't be standing for a while.

"I don't know…make with the smile and athletic charm. Maybe that'll slow her down." Guarnere began to head out. "Oh, and don't worry, transports are coming. We'll have you out of here in no time." With that, he shut the door. No time for conversation; he had a girl to find.

Compton looked back at the closet. "You can come out now."

Slowly, the door swung open. Krista just stood there watching it go and then looked over at Compton. She did not feel like moving at the moment. Maybe it was because she thought Guarnere might come back in or, most likely, it was because of what Compton had said. They had met maybe five minutes ago and he already did that. It reminded her too much of Pierre, the whole absence of empathy. Perhaps she was taking this too seriously though. The man was just trying to lighten things up a little, relieve the awkward tension in the air, show her that he did not care if she spoke English.

Mentally forgiving him, Krista took her place in the corner once more. They were silent for a few moments, wondering what to say.

"I'm surprised you went in there." Compton said. Krista gave him a puzzled look. "I mean, I just thought that after being in the closet with…" He finally thought the sentence through. "Never mind, I'm an ass."

Compton watched her head tilt slightly to the side, as though trying to think of something. "You are a…mule?" The laughter that followed confused her further.

"No, uh…it means I'm a jerk." Krista said nothing. "A mean guy."

"I know what a jerk is." Compton shut his mouth tight and decided to never open it unless she did first. So, he waited for a few minutes while Krista decided what to say next, if she said anything at all.

"It is okay…what you said." Krista stared at the floor as she spoke. She took her time with talking, thinking out the sentences completely in order to avoid any mistake; she did not wish to embarrass herself anymore. "Being in the closet was not…nice. I am not sure why I did it. I wanted to be alone."

"Yet being in here with me is alright."

Krista looked up and met his smile once more. She smiled as well. "You cannot make me go back to the room."

Compton nodded. "Well, there is that." They fell into another silence but it was not awkward; it was comfortable and friendly. She began to wonder how she felt so at ease with talking with him; she hardly knew him. At the same time, though, it seemed that she had known him for a long time. He was like a friend back in Germany, one she had in school; he was not athletic or very tall but his personality matched that of Compton's. It was like revisiting her childhood in a way.

"You have a nice laugh." Compton said suddenly. More silence followed for neither one of them was completely certain what they should say in response. Krista watched Compton as he turned away. The situation seemed to be awkward for him, though she did not understand why. It was a simple compliment, how could it hurt? There must have been something else on his mind. She knew how he felt, though, for a while now, her thoughts had not strayed in that direction. He put her at ease because he made her forget.

"Thank you." He did not turn back nor make any indication that he had heard her. This sudden change in his personality was disturbing in a way. One moment he was joking around with her, the next he is solemn and unwilling to speak. Of course, a few moments before, she had been the same way and now wished to speak. Was that just as depressing? Did it not also indicate that something was wrong? Yet no one ever paid any attention to a mood swing like that, they confuse it with someone getting better.

Krista stood. Compton needed to be alone. She wished to stay with him, he made her forget but she was making him remember. One of them should have peace of mind, preferably the one that could still run away from the memories. So she grabbed the door and slipped out of the room silently without another word.

Instantly after she left the room, her mental state began to take a turn for the worse. She could hear the cries of pain from the levels below and felt the walls once again begin to close in on her. Turning back toward the room, Krista stopped herself. She was not going to cause him anymore pain. He had been kind in not letting anyone find her, now she will return it by leaving him alone.

Krista made her way back down the hallway which ended with a wall and, fortunately, no injured men. To her left was a staircase that led down to another floor, and to the cries. Shuddering, Krista turned to her right. It was not another hallway, instead there only a simple ladder that led to a hatch in the ceiling. Curious, she walked over and began to climb it, reaching her hand up when she got to the top to push the hatch open. Nothing moved; it was stuck. Pushing harder, Krista managed to pry it open while nearly falling off the ladder. It made a loud screeching noise that was bound to have been heard by someone. She scrambled the rest of the way up and stuck her head out of the opening which had revealed a beautiful blue sky.

She had found her way onto the roof of the building. Once she stepped outside, she could have started laughing the fresh air felt so good. Out here she could not hear the cries of pain from down below, the feeling of death did not exist, and there were no more walls. Confinement was gone, she could relax once again.

Krista moved to the edge of the roof where a wall stood not two feet high. She sat down and spread her arms across the top taking in the scene. Ignoring the chaos of the army life below, her eyes moved upward toward the horizon and, ultimately, Eindhoven. The city was just visible over the rolling hills. She could even pick out the building that she had once stayed in. It was a lovely place and she wished to return to it someday. Pierre had really outdone himself when he chose that spot.

The moment her mind even touched on the subject of Pierre, the wind began to pick up in attempt to relax her and take the memory away. This was not the time to think of him. How long had he been dead? One day, maybe two? The wounds were still fresh. Do not think about him now. She could not run from the memory forever but for now, it was best to leave it alone.

The sun was setting behind the buildings of Eindhoven now casting warm shadows over the countryside. There were times when Krista believed that she would never see the sunset again. Well, here it was, welcoming her once more. She vowed to herself now that she would never lose faith like that again for if she did, her worst fears would most certainly come true.

How long she was up there, Krista did not know but the sun was well below the horizon when she heard movement near the ladder. Grabbing a piece of brick that had broken off the building, she turned to the opened hatch and watched the person as they climbed up. She immediately recognized them though and put the brick down. It was Liebgott. He must have been looking for her as well, or perhaps he just wanted some fresh air as she had. The look on his face when he saw her told Krista that it was the former.

Liebgott smiled as he walked over to her. "There you are. We've been looking for you for a while. Bill's got most of second platoon out searching. Winters ain't going to be too happy when he finds out but I'm sure Bill thinks it's worth it." Krista tried to look confused at what he said but she was not up for pretending anymore. Liebgott noticed. "Hey, it's alright. I got to talk to Buck before he left. He told me everything."

Krista looked up at him. "Everything?" The fact that Liebgott was not surprised confirmed what he said.

"Yeah, everything including that little incident with him. He told me to tell you he was sorry." Krista nodded. Compton was gone now; she could not talk to him. She only wished he knew that she had forgiven him before she had left the room, that she understood was he was going through but that had threatened a long explanation on her part.

Liebgott sat down next to her and was silent as though he was waiting for her to say something. He had nothing to say, she was sure.

"Thank you." She said after a while.

Liebgott turned to her. "For what?"

"For choosing to search the building. I would still be in there and…" Krista could not bring herself to finish the sentence. She could feel the wind picking up again; she whispered a thank you to the heavens as well.

Liebgott put his arm around Krista in an attempt to comfort her. He did not know why but he found it so easy to talk to her just as Krista found it so easy to talk to him, to anyone. Compton had found it easy to talk to her before something inside had quieted him, Guarnere had found it easy to say simple comments that he only said to people he knew, and others felt the need to talk to her. She seemed to remind them all of someone they knew, they all felt as though they knew her and she felt like she knew them. Perhaps it was just some form of imagination taking over or a desire to connect to people, perhaps the men only felt it easy to talk to her because they felt sorry for her but that did not matter at the moment. Right now, it was just a strange occurrence that each side was thankful for.

"Hey, don't thank me. I was just in there for some souvenirs. Let's just be thankful Bill stopped in or we'd still be standing there. Anyway, it should be me thanking you. We all would have bought the farm if it weren't for you."

Krista looked at him, confused once more. "Bought the farm?"

He smiled. "It's a nice term for dead." Krista nodded, understanding now. "You were the only one who noticed the grenade."

"I almost did not grab it."

"But the point is you did, don't be humble."

Krista smiled. "Then do not be humble either. I would have…'bought the farm' if it were not for you." Liebgott began to laugh as did Krista. She realized how ridiculous it must have sounded.

"That was pretty good. You learn fast." Krista nodded, appreciating the compliment. They both fell silent and enjoyed the rest of the sunset, looking at how the clouds changed into beautiful colors. Occasionally, Krista would look over to her shoulder and watch Liebgott's arm as it sat there. She wondered what made it feel so normal, not knowing the man for even a day and letting him put his arm around her; she never noticed and never cared. If anything, she welcomed it. Perhaps she wanted to catch up on the normalcy of life that had been so long denied her. Of course, being so close to a complete stranger was anything but normal. But it was normal in terms of her life which had some strange occurrences in it. He felt like a friend, that is why it felt normal, comfortable even. Or, perhaps, she was willing to accept anything that did not involve the various forms of pain.

Krista's stomach interrupted the calm silence. She blushed as she turned to Liebgott who was trying hard to contain his laughter.

"I guess I am hungry." Liebgott gave up and began to laugh so hard that he was struggling to breathe. Krista plucked his arm off her shoulder and crossed her own. She gave him 'the look' which any person could understand no matter what language they spoke. Liebgott seemed to quiet down instantly and she smiled in triumph.

Liebgott stood. "I'll go down and find you something to eat. Care to join me?"

Krista looked over at the hatch. The wind was picking up again. She shook her head.

"Yeah, I wouldn't either." He disappeared down the hatch leaving Krista alone once again. At least she was smiling this time. Everyone was being so nice even though she knew it could only be from pity. She hated pity as much as the next person, perhaps even more, but had given up on changing people's minds. One look at her face and she knew it could not be stopped.

Krista looked up at the sky and observed the emerging stars. No lights in the buildings were on lest German bombers roamed the skies so her view was unobstructed. She began to pick out various constellations that had been taught to her by her father. All of the stories came back to her. She could see Hercules, Pegasus (her personal favorite) and Cassiopeia as well as other constellations that she recognized. Krista felt like a little girl again as she pointed out various stars. After two years of nothing but running and serious subjects, she needed a little break from 'adulthood.'

Gone for not more than a few minutes, Liebgott soon emerged from the hatch with a sandwich in hand. Krista stared at it hungrily as he walked over.

"This was probably for some officer, doesn't matter now. You've been through enough for one day; we'll save K rations for later." He handed her the sandwich and sat down again. Krista bit into it and smiled. Beef, she could have died. "Oh, and I ran into Bill on my way up. He'll be up here soon. The guy was mighty happy to hear that someone had found you. You should have seen him tear this place apart." Krista was only half listening to what Liebgott said; she was enjoying the sandwich too much.

Soon enough, just as Liebgott had said, Guarnere came up to the roof via the hatch. As soon as he set eyes on Krista, his whole demeanor seemed to relax.

"And I thought I had looked everywhere. Where have you been?"

Krista swallowed. "Around." She smiled as she thought back to what Compton had said. Hoping he was going to be alright, she bit into her sandwich again.

"Geez." Guarnere reached behind his head. "When you told me she spoke English, I thought you was shittin' me." Krista shot a quizzical glance toward Liebgott who gave Guarnere a disapproving one. He caught the mistake. "I mean lying to me."

Liebgott shook his head. "No, she knows English. She may not know some of our more interesting terms, but she's got it down. In fact, I bet she speaks English better than you do."

Guarnere sat down with the two. "Better than me, huh?" Liebgott nodded.

Krista finished off the sandwich. "You said 'I thought you was.' It should have been 'I thought you were.'" Liebgott snickered a little as Guarnere thought it over.

"Well, that's how we say it in Philly."

Krista gave him a hard stare. "Then people in…Philly are wrong." Once again, Liebgott could not catch his breath. Even Guarnere got in a little chuckle though Krista did not get what was so funny. She had been given hell for getting her grammar wrong, why should he not?

Guarnere took a deep breath. "Okay, that's enough of that. How'd you find her, Joe?"

Liebgott managed to answer though still laughing a little. "Just happened to find the hatch open and what would you know she was sitting up here watching the sunset."

Krista stepped in. "I was with…Buck before."

Guarnere looked at her funny. "You was, sorry, were what? I thought I checked in his room."

"I was in the closet." Bill Guarnere looked about ready to say the same exact thing that Compton had said to her earlier but he caught himself in time. "Sorry I hid from you but I did not want to go back." She paused a moment, thinking. "Where is David? Buck said something about… OP duty. What is that?"

"OP outpost. Nothing you need to worry about. Now, what did you say, David? Who's…oh, Webster. He and a couple other guys went out looking for Bull."

Liebgott straightened up a little. "They what?"

"Yeah, suicidal bastards. I told them not to go but they wouldn't listen."

Krista was more confused than ever. When he said 'Bull' she thought of cows but perhaps it was not the smartest thing to ask about. The last thing she wanted was more laughter. "Bull?"

"Oh, he's one of the sergeants. Best one there is too. He's uh, he's missing. We're thinking he got left behind in Nuenen." Guarnere saw the concern on Krista's face. "Oh, don't worry about them. They're paratroopers, they'll be fine." Krista nodded though she did not feel much better about the situation. People she knew always running off and getting killed. She wondered why she bothered getting to know people anymore.

While the three sat there, Krista could not help but notice this humming noise that seemed to be getting closer. Almost immediately she recognized it.

"Bombers." She whispered. Krista had heard these things before. Many times back at home they would hear them flying off to bomb France or, more recently, England. Now they were searching for a target here. Guarnere and Liebgott listened to the humming and stood up, dragging Krista up with them.

"I think it's time to get out of here." Liebgott said as he backed toward the hatch.

"It ain't going to make much of a difference if we're the target." Guarnere replied though he moved back as well. Krista was unwilling to move, frozen by the familiar noise. Soon, the others stopped, fascinated just as much.

The humming became louder and soon seemed like a constant roar of thunder or a train passing over head. It was so loud that Krista almost thought she would have to cover her ears. Though it was dark, they could all make out the outlines of several dozen planes flying overhead. It was an amazing and terrifying sight, the kind only allowed during times of war.

"Why ain't they dropping anything?!" Guarnere shouted. His question was answered as a building shot up in flames a few miles away, dead center in Eindhoven. Krista ran over to the edge of the building once more and watched as the rest of the city disappeared in flames. She could have shouted, could have cried out her name. Let them know she was here. Maybe that would stop them. Maybe they would take her instead. But she did not shout, did not cry out her name. She knew there was more to this war than her capture. As far as the SS, Gestapo or even Hitler was concerned, she was nothing now. Besides, the officers would have most likely said she was dead instead of admitting her escape into Allied hands. Her role was over, she could do nothing now.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Liebgott approach. The planes were no longer over them so he could speak softer now. "Is that where you're from?" This question had caught Krista off guard. He thought she was Dutch, Guarnere probably did as well…even Compton thought she was from Holland. She did not know how this was possible. To her it was pitifully obvious that she was German. Of course, the Dutch could sound like Germans; their accents were not all that different especially with the ones that spoke German. Well, why would they suspect her of being German? Would they really think the Germans would lock up there own citizens out here? Oh, if only they knew. But, she did not want them to. They did not need to know. She did not want to be hated, did not want to be called a Nazi…did not want to be left alone again. Perhaps it was best that they continued to think that she was Dutch.

Krista nodded. "Yes…yes it is."

* * *

**July 1942**

**Outside Strasbourg, France**

Once the sun had set and Pierre had given her the all clear, the two made their way back into the cabin. Pierre shuffled around, swearing as he bumped into things, until he found a lantern. Lighting it, he moved quickly to shut all the curtains which were rather run down and looked to have been eaten up by moths.

"_Quick, shut those curtains over there_!" He shouted to her. Krista moved to the ones in the front carefully so as to miss the hole in the floor, and shut them catching a quick glimpse at the outside. It was just forest, nothing more nothing less. She felt as though she were in a dream; she prayed that was all it was.

Satisfied, Pierre walked over to her. "_Well, what do you think of it?"_

"_Think of what?"_ Krista asked her frustration terribly obvious. "_This horrific situation my father has gotten me into, this disgusting, decrepit old cabin or the seemingly endless forest that surrounds us?"_

Pierre was silent for a moment. "_Okay…never mind then."_ He grabbed a bucket that happened to be on the floor and placed it over the hole. "_Now we won't step in it_." He smiled at her but received nothing in reply. "_Right, um…well, this is the…I guess you would call it the living room, main room, family room, whatever people call it these days…that's my bed right there."_ He pointed to a small cot next to the hole they climbed out of. "_Kitchen is through that door behind me. It's just a bunch of cabinets…no sink and we cook in the fireplace right there."_ It was across from his bed. "_You'll be staying in a room connected to the kitchen. It's actually rather nice, believe it or not. Outhouse it next to a woodpile outside and…that's about it."_

Krista looked around the cabin, a place she would be calling home for sometime. Gripping the backpack tightly, she looked at Pierre, anger in her eyes. "_What do I think of it? I think it is the most atrocious thing that I have ever seen and that homeless people are better off. I think that I have been put into the most difficult of positions by not even doing anything and I think my father is the most idiotic man alive!_" Krista plopped herself on the cot ignoring the loud moan from the floorboards. "_If he's even alive at all."_

Sighing, Pierre sat next to her. There was a lot of explaining needed here. "_Alright, you may be right about the cabin being atrocious but that is it. Homeless people are not better off, I should know. You have not been put in a difficult position by not doing anything, in fact it is the exact opposite and your father is not idiotic, he is the smartest German I know, and believe me I've run into quite a few_." Krista did not question how he ran into Germans, she just assumed.

She looked up at Pierre. "_Then why would he try to kill Hitler? I mean, I know he is not exactly the most, uh…peaceful of leaders but he did bring us out of a dark time. Yes, the war thing was a little too far…a lot too far…extremely unnecessary but that is not the point. Why kill him? Surely he could be persuaded to stop what he is-″_

"_Persuaded!"_ Pierre jumped up from the cot, scaring Krista so much that she fell onto the floor. _"The man is borderline institutional! No, he _is_ crazy! He should have been locked up before any of this got out of hand. And anyone that says otherwise ought to be…"_ He stopped as his eyes landed on Krista. Hers had grown wide and somewhat terrified. Her father expected safety from him?

Pierre sighed. He offered a hand which Krista took, warily, and set her on the cot again. He also sat. _"Alright, your father told me you did not know too much so I should not yell but it is extremely difficult to believe that you people have no idea what is going on."_

"_I assure you, if there was anything strange going on, the newspapers would tell us."_

"_Have you looked at the papers in the backpack_?"

Krista glanced at the it. "_No."_

"_Then you know nothing."_

* * *

A few hours had passed by. Pierre had made, more like put together, some dinner which consisted of bread, some meat and leftover wine. Krista refused to eat. It was understandable. She had been through more excitement in one day than what the rest of her lifetime could come up with. Not many people ever had an appetite after experiences like that.

Krista sat on his cot still, staring at the backpack which apparently contained the truth about everything. She had risked her life for the truth, for the reason why her father tried to kill Hitler. Was it really worth it? Did she honestly want to know the truth?

She stood and walked into the kitchen where Pierre sat up to a small table fiddling with a knife. The truth could wait for now. No more major surprises for today. Krista sat across from Pierre and gave him a good onceover. Dark black hair covered his head complete with a five o'clock shadow. His skin was fairly tan but also scarred, especially around his hands. He was actually a fairly attractive man but the situation left Krista oblivious to that fact.

"_So now what?"_ She asked her voice somber.

Pierre looked up from the knife. "_Hmm?"_

"_What are we going to do now?"_

He put the knife down. "_Well, I am going to stay up for a few more hours then go to my cot and-″_

Krista slammed her fist on the table. "_You know what I mean, damn it!"_ This threw him off. He did not reply. _"I want to know what you are going to do about me, how you plan to get me out of here and how you plan to not have me found."_

Pierre sighed. "_Alright…I plan on getting you to England by putting you on some fishing boat preferably during low tide, which means you will not be leaving for another month or so but seeing as how you just became wanted, I want to wait until at least next year to go and obviously, not in the winter. As for your identity…_" He pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it to Krista. "_Your name is Marie Durand. You will be my sister."_

Krista looked at him like he was crazy. "_I do not even look like you."_

"_Yes, our mother was a prostitute_." Krista felt her jaw drop to the ground. "_Well, that is the actual explanation_."

"_And, uh_…" She would never be able to get over that thought. "_How do you explain the fact that I know nothing of French and that I have a German accent?_"

"_Oh, you're a mute."_ Krista raised her eyebrows, completely unconvinced. "_Well, you'll never have to talk then."_

Krista put the identification card down. "_Isn't this all a little too convenient?"_

"_Yes, well I have thought about that but imagine if it was not convenient, then my job would be extremely difficult. Clearly I thought about not making you French because, obviously, you know nothing about us but that would mean I would have to make a completely different looking card from a different country, have to explain why you were here, why you're with me and what your background is. Most likely, I would have to make myself from a different country and, as you can see, I have some difficulty hiding my accent. Plus, I would need to make more backgrounds thus you are my mute, French sister. Now, I do not plan on having you out that often and the majority of the time if you are, you will be with me. I will do the talking, they'll rarely ask for you unless they've gotten smart. Now, seeing as how you are a new criminal, yes that is what you are don't give me that look, you will not be leaving this cabin for a few months. Yes, that's right. Quit smacking your head on the table. If they ever want you to speak, just make with some fancy signs and please, look convincing. I'll come up with something. Now, if you are ever alone, most of the time all you'll need to do is bat your __eyelashes and the guards will let you pass. If the guard ever knows sign language…well, I haven't thought that out yet but I think I have everything covered. Any questions?"_ Krista blinked a few times before answering.

"_Yes, why can't I be an Austrian girl who has come looking for her long lost half brother that her father never knew about until he got a letter from a woman he had some 'fun' with many years ago because he was a big fan of cabaret?"_ It was Pierre's turn to be silent for a few moments.

"_You know, that might have worked…oh well, too late now_." Pierre stood up and walked out of the kitchen. "_Well, I'm off to bed."_

Krista stood in the doorway. "_One more question_." He turned around. "_How do I get some clothes?"_

"_Oh, there's some in the closet in your room. I'll get some more later, promise_." With that, he collapsed onto the cot and fell asleep, just as he had done before.

Krista walked into her room. It was a simple bunk bed with a small dresser and a thin door that, she assumed, was the closet. She sat on the bed and stared at the wall, thinking over her predicament. She was not too certain that she could trust a man whose cover story was worse than one she made off of the top of her head but whatever works, though they were going to have to work on the whole 'their mother was a prostitute' part.

She thought over what he said. Next year? How could she wait that long? And she could not leave that cabin for a few months? Insanity did not seem so impossible at this point especially if she would have to spend all this time with Pierre. He was the type of person that she would have avoided constantly back home. Now she was stuck with him.

Krista collapsed on the bed and looked down at the floor in time to see a rather large spider run across.

Yes, this was going to be fun.

* * *

Yeah, the flashback was just a short talkie but it tells you some important stuff. Wow…my chapters just keep getting longer. This is awesome! I hope you enjoyed it. I found this chapter a little difficult to write.

I actually have this thing that told me what constellations were in the sky on September 19, 1944 in Amsterdam. It may seem kind of nerdy but I thought it was pretty cool. It's always nice to be assured of accuracy.

In the next chapter, we get to day **two**! Whoo!!


	5. Discoveries

Alright, I'm back! I hope everyone had a great Independence Day, and for those who do not celebrate it, I hope you had a great Fourth of July. I did. Taste of Minnesota fireworks!

Now, please excuse me, I have some congratulations to hand out. **You can skip this part if you like.**

First and foremost, congrats to Rafael Nadal at beating the 5-time Wimbledon Champion Roger Federer in a beautiful five set match. Whoop! Whoop! I'll never forget it.

Congrats to the Spanish football team on their victory at the Euro Cup (though I was rooting for Germany. Better luck next year boys!).

Congrats to my three favorite Twins players on making it to the All-Star game: Justin Morneau (sighs), Joe Mauer and Joe Nathan.

And in other sports related news, Alex Rodriguez's wife is divorcing him (Okay, all together now…1,2,3 FINALLY!!) She has seen the light!

Enjoy!

**NOTE: There are some Italics a few paragraphs down. That's a mini flashback for those who may become confused.**

* * *

**Chapter Five: Discoveries**

**September 1944**

**Tongelre, Holland**

Krista willingly returned to her room, at least after some convincing from Guarnere and Liebgott who all but threatened to swing her over their shoulders and drag her back. They got her to go in by describing the situation if she did not. One of them would obviously have to stay with her, Liebgott said it would have to be him because Guarnere had leadership obligations much to Bill's disappointment, and if anyone was to discover the two alone on the roof, especially an officer, it would not play out too well. Many injured men had been evacuated anyway, she should take the opportunity to have a room. The men thought they were helping, if only they knew.

Her face was buried in the pillow so she could not see the walls closing in, not see the faces. Her sweat covered hands reached for the bedposts and gripped them, white knuckled, out of fear, frustration, and, what seemed to be, the need to strangle something. What? Who? The evil that caused her horrific existence? The evil that kept her there? Herself for letting him go?

Her eyes shot open as the memory drifted back. No longer could she stop it, the silence was too powerful.

_The pistol lowered itself, centering on her forehead. It did not stay there; the owner's hand was shaking too badly but they could not miss._

_A blur. A shot, not to her head but the wall. Pierre was beating the man, shouting something she could not hear. Another shot. A cry in agony. Silence._

Krista shut her eyes but all she could see was his face, his dead, pale face, eyes looking at her asking, asking why. She opened them again but now she saw the faces and Eindhoven set aflame. Death and destruction to innocent lives caught up in a war they knew not the cause of. They had been plagued for years and now that their rescuers had arrived, this happens. What more could they endure? What more could she?

Close her eyes: Pierre. Open them: more faces. Which was worse? Which could possibly be better?

This room had no window; there was not way of even catching a glimpse at freedom. What cruel intentions had been constructed into the building? None, just the thought of sleep for those who wanted it, darkness and silence complete. Everything she did not want, or need, right now. They brought the memories, they brought his face, they brought taunting questions. She was on trial, and losing, the sentence death. She opened her mouth in attempt to make a final plea.

Suddenly, everything stopped. The faces, the memories…they all just vanished. Something had caught her attention, enough to distract her for her mind was so desperately seeking escape anything would. There were voices, not ones from memory, different ones coming from somewhere in the building.

Krista glanced at the doorway; light came from the crack below. Morning had arrived. She wiped her face quickly, ridding it of tears that had once fallen. She stood up but had to hold onto the bed for a moment; her legs were rather shaky. Running her fingers through her hair, Krista wished she had a brush. Who knew how terrible her hair might look now. At this, Krista could not help but smile at herself. After going through the terrible ordeal called night, she actually cared about what she looked like. Vanity should be the least of her worries now, especially around soldiers. They were not exactly the best looking right now. And they would not care how she looked anyway, as long as she was a woman which was a rather convenient truth.

Walking over to the door, Krista took a deep breath. She began to pray that no one had heard her, that there had not been some terrible scream that escaped from her lungs that she did not know about. Certainly someone would have checked on her if there had but then again, she did not know. If they did hear, she would be able to tell. They would say no but their eyes would say otherwise. It is worse than if they told her for now she would feel like some freak, some pitiful stray they had brought in. The cuts, she could handle that. The fact that she ignored them would give her some strength but a scream she knew nothing about made her paranoid and vulnerable…made her weak.

'Calm down.' She told herself. 'Just get out of the building and everything will be alright.' Exhaling, she opened the door.

The hallway was empty and the building was eerily quiet save for the few voices downstairs. It sounded as though they were trying to keep their voices low but to no avail. Their voices would echo through the hallways getting louder with each corner they turned, or so it seemed. She could not tell what they were saying. In an attempt to speak quietly they seemed to lose their ability to pronounce the words. Every now and then she would catch one like 'injured,' 'trucks,' and 'morphine.' What was morphine? It did not matter. Shutting the door, Krista made her way to the stairs. Each step creaked louder than the last and trying to walk slowly just made it worse. Krista finally gave up and picked up her pace, barely touching the steps as she went.

At the bottom of the stairs, Krista discovered a dismal scene to her left. Two medics were working on a soldier in a nearby room. She sat down on the last step and watched the scene unfold, clinging to the handrail. Both of the men had their backs to her so she could not see much. What she did see was several bloody bandages get tossed to the side and the occasional glimpse at the soldier's face. He looked so young and, unfortunately, looked dead. She could feel her heart sink with every second that passed by.

One of the medics began to shout in French; she had heard the language enough times to recognize it but the accent was not the same. It was different from any other she had ever heard. She could catch a word now and then but her knowledge of French was small. 'Bonjour' was the basic extent of it. The other medic sat back and looked at the boy. He seemed to know that their efforts were pointless.

"Roe." he said rather solemnly. The other did not stop. "Roe!" Shouting seemed to get the other medic's attention. He leaned back and looked at the boy as well then shouted again in French as he tossed another bloody bandage to the side. They were silent now.

The other medic stood up, patted 'Roe' on the back and left the room without taking his eyes off the floor. He walked past the staircase without noticing Krista, other thoughts on his mind.

Back in the room, 'Roe' still stared at the body. He then grabbed at something around the boy's neck. It almost appeared to be a necklace but Krista knew better; it was a way of identifying dead soldiers, the official confirmation that a man was gone. She began to wonder about his family and if they would ever know what happened to him.

'Roe' covered the boy with a blanket then made his way out of the room. He did not pass the staircase, instead he sat on a bench just outside the room but, like the other medic, he did not notice Krista; he kept his eyes to the floor, no distractions from his thoughts.

It was now that Krista recognized him. She had seen him the other day, working on a different man before the grenade crossed their path. He had his helmet on then but now she could see his black hair. Oh how it looked like Pierre's! Why must everyone remind her of the past? Past. Only a few days ago Pierre was the present, now he was not.

She watched 'Roe' wipe the blood off his hands with a cloth he had. His frustration was obvious as he appeared to be trying to rub his hands raw.

Krista stood causing the floorboards to creak. 'Roe' looked up and met her eyes. He did not say anything, did not even look surprised. His eyes resumed their staring at the floor. She watched him, surprised at his reaction and yet not. There was a bench across from him up against the staircase. Krista sat on it and continued to watch 'Roe,' not wanting to leave him, not like this.

They were silent for a while. Krista was not even sure if 'Roe' realized she was still in the room, that was until he spoke.

"He was perfectly fine yesterday." He still did not look up. Did he know she spoke English? Perhaps he was just talking to himself, engaging in a one-sided conversation like Compton had. No…there was something about the way he spoke. Somehow he knew. Krista said nothing between his long pauses and waited for him to finish.

"He was talking a lot…complaining about how he only got to fire one shot…we moved out the most serious cases last night, thought he would make it…" He was silent for a while after this, thinking about what he said, what decisions he had made. Krista began to wonder why he told her this. Maybe he thought the others had too much on their minds already, not that she did not. Maybe he thought others would think of him as weak, a terrible idea at best. Or maybe he thought that she wanted to know, that she was curious. If that was it, he thought right.

"Something happened overnight. The bullet might have shifted, something internal that we couldn't get to…he might have gotten the help he needed if we let him go…then again, it might have just killed him faster." He paused for a moment. "He was nineteen or so he said…something tells me he never got to finish school." 'Roe' did not speak again; he just continued to rub his hands in the cloth. Krista let this continue for a few moments more before the need for an intervention took over. She got off the bench, sat down next to 'Roe,' and grabbed his hands, urging them to stop. They did. His hands were so warm. Perhaps hers were cold. She had never noticed.

'Roe' sighed, placing the rag next to him. He looked over at Krista. "Don't know why I'm telling you all of this; I'm sure you have your own problems."

Krista finally spoke. "It is okay. You needed it."

'Roe' nodded, considering what she had said. "Yeah, I guess I did. It's just funny to think I'm talking to you like this and I don't even know who you are." He turned away for a second looking at the stairs, seeming almost…embarrassed.

She smiled. "Krista." 'Roe' looked back. "My name is Krista."

He nodded, smiling. "I'm Eugene."

"Roe?"

"Yeah…Eugene Roe."

There was a commotion down the hallway and someone began shouting for Roe who immediately stood up and began heading in that direction. Before leaving, he turned back to Krista. "If you're looking for breakfast, just go out that door and follow the paratroopers. Don't worry about talking; I'm sure the whole ETO knows you speak English by now."

"Okay." With that, Roe left. Krista looked at the ground and seemed to curse herself over what she said which ended up sounding more like a question than an answer. Okay? That was it? She was not even sure if the word was right but according to Roe's reaction it must have been. Still, she felt stupid.

Krista stood and looked at the door to her right which had previously gone unnoticed. Then she looked back to the room with the dead soldier. Part of her wished to go in but she decided against it. She had seen enough death. Krista turned back to the door and prepared to go outside.

The sun was shining, the skies were clear; it was comfortably warm and even the birds were singing. It seemed like the perfect day except there was a war raging on so the day was far from it. Someone was going to kill, someone was going to die. How was that perfect? Krista could almost shout at nature for caring so little.

She looked at her surroundings. Trees to her left, a road to her right occupied by parked trucks and moving soldiers. Were they paratroopers? Yes, what else could it be? Krista wished she had asked him but she was tired of looking like she knew nothing, even though that was true. She was stubborn that way. Besides, Roe was busy.

Krista continued her way forward, following the soldiers from a distance. She did not wish to be seen, not until she had found someone she knew. Of course, things never seemed to work out the way she wanted them to.

"Hey. Hey!" At first, Krista did not realize that they were shouting for her. She thought they were trying to get the attention of a friend; if they wanted hers, they would have used her name. Then again, there was only one person who knew it.

Krista turned to face her caller. It was another man from yesterday, the one with the phone. 'Luz'…that was what Guarnere called him. He came jogging over, the phone on his back, a strange weapon in his hands. She was not threatened by it, no weapon could do that anymore, but she did stare at it trying to figure out what it was.

'Luz' did not seem to notice where her eyes were fixed. "Sheesh. It sure is hard to get the attention of someone whose name you don't know…I'm George." Krista said nothing as he fell into step beside her. "Any chance I could know what to call you?" She looked at him funny, the abruptness of his question throwing her off.

He sighed. "Yeah, bad attempt to get your name. You can't blame a guy, though. They're already starting a pool." He did see her look of confusion. "They're, uh, betting on what your name is."

Krista nodded. "Luz?"

He smiled. "Yeah, George Luz."

She offered her hand, which he took, smiling as well. For a moment, Luz thought she might tell him her name but Krista was not about to let that happen. "It is nice to meet you." Luz put a look of disappointment on his face that was very entertaining; she began to laugh.

"Oh, I see how it is." Luz said looking suspicious. "Get a man's hopes up and then beat him into the ground." She began to laugh harder not noticing they were coming up to a line of men, one of which stepped out and began to head in their direction.

"Hey Luz, you can't give the girl a few days before you start flirting with her?"

"Well, I don't know, Bill, can you give the girl a few hours of sleep before barging into her room?"

Guarnere did not respond to that question. He smiled at Krista. "Hungry?" She nodded slowly, her smile not fading. "Well, lucky for you, these people like apples." He produced one from his pocket and tossed it to her. "Eat it while it's still fresh."

"Whoa, wait…fresh apples in the Army?" Luz asked, unsure, as Krista bit into hers. It gave her tongue a sweet sensation it had not felt in a while.

"Believe it or not."

"Can I have one?"

"Sorry. She got the last one." Krista looked over at Luz, apology in her eyes.

Luz frowned. "It's Army alright." She offered him a bite of her apple but he declined, something about not wanting to 'put himself through that kind of torture.' Krista did not understand what he said but that was the same with most things so she dismissed it as unimportant.

About halfway through her apple, Krista asked, "Are you… paratroopers?"

Guarnere seemed to come to attention at this. "That's right, we are." He proudly stated. "Easy Company, second battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division. Best of the best."

Seeing her look of confusion, Luz added. "We jump out of airplanes."

Krista's mouth hit the ground. Now, over the past two years, she had seen some crazy things, even done some herself but never had she heard of such a foolish thing. Jumping out of an airplane! Was that not why planes landed, so the passengers did not have to jump out? She decided not to question their insanity; the answer would only confuse her.

Luz sighed. "Yeah, that's the look we usually get: horror mixed with surprise and disbelief."

Guarnere stepped in. "'Cept you was getting those before you enlisted." Krista thought about what Bill said while Luz kept a straight face.

"How about you leave the jokes to me, Bill?"

Now Guarnere's face evened out. "Any other questions?" Krista picked her jaw up and stared at the apple, almost afraid to ask.

She looked up again. "What is ETO?"

"European Theatre of Operations." Luz said, cutting off Guarnere's response. "It's our side of the war."

Krista nodded. "And the pool?"

Guarnere looked over at Luz. "Well there goes my chance at getting her name. Thanks for telling her, Luz." The other paratrooper just shrugged his shoulders. "Muck started the pool just after we got back, guess he was bored or something. Anyway, there's about a hundred dollars in it already. A whole month's pay right there for the taking."

Krista gave him a disapproving look. She did not appreciate other soldiers placing bets on what they did not know about her. Their money had better uses and it was downright rude. She thought back to Roe. He knew her name but she doubted he was in on it; he was just trying to take care of his patients. He probably had not even heard about it yet.

Guarnere caught the look. "Hey, I didn't know about it until this morning. If I knew your name, I would not have bet anyway." The look deepened. "What? I mean it. Besides, it's not going to make a difference now. I'm not going to get your name, am I?" Krista shook her head. Guarnere sighed, a little upset. This made Luz smile slightly.

Suddenly a great commotion started up behind them. Cheers and whistles could be heard as well as some forms of laughter. Confused, Krista looked at the other two whose faces bore the same expression as hers. They both began to walk away, each emphasizing that she should stay put. Krista would have none of that. Men were laughing; it could not be that bad. She followed them into the gathering crowd until they came upon the reason behind it.

In the center of the group was a jeep which had once contained several soldiers, each of which was standing just outside it at the moment. Krista did not know any, at first, until her eyes landed upon a very tired looking Webster. The next thing she knew, she had run out of the crowd and embraced him in a hug. Whether it was because she was thankful he returned safe, because he had been so nice to her before or because she just wanted to, Krista did not know. At the moment, she did not care. When he got over the initial shock, Webster returned the hug. His embrace was warm and friendly, and she had not been hugged for so long, she almost forgot where she was. Remembering, though, Krista stepped back, blushing slightly. She managed to look up and see that his face was a deeper color as well. It made her want to smile again.

"First he gets to carry her, now he gets to hug her. When do I get something?" Guarnere asked as he stepped out of the crowd.

Allowing her to recover from her embarrassing moment, Krista whipped around to face the sergeant. "When you stop complaining." The crowd began to laugh. Roe was right, they all knew…except for Webster, that is. She tried to ignore his look of surprise.

"Well, that's not going to happen anytime soon." A new voice, a new accent. Krista looked over, and then up, at the new person. He was the tallest one in the group and rather built. Only one thing came to mind.

"Bull?"

"Yes, ma'am." Suddenly, everything made sense. "Sergeant Denver Randleman. I guess you're the girl everyone was talking about when I got back. Here two minutes and already forgotten. I never did like this company none." He winked at her, hinting that he was only joking.

Krista smiled. She liked Bull.

Another man marched out of the crowd, one she had not seen before. He had many more stripes on his arm than the others, indicating higher rank. She wondered what he was.

The man shook Bull's hand, smiling, and said some words that Krista did not hear. She thought it was best the words remain between them. Soon, though, he walked toward her.

"Seeing as how everyone is introducing themselves, I might as well too. First Sergeant Carwood Lipton." Carwood? That was a different one but she doubted it was a nickname. She liked it though; there was something nice about it.

Lipton turned to the crowd. "Sorry boys, that's all the introductions for now." Krista then noticed some of the men had gotten closer. She also saw Guarnere eyeing each one of them. "Captain Winters wants to talk to her first." She looked at Lipton, a little concerned. He saw this.

"Don't worry, it's nothing bad. You saw him yesterday, the man with the red hair." She remembered now. He had been with that one man, 'Nix,' the one who had brought her these clothes, when he was shot. He let her get on the truck. Now she would talk with him, he must be in command. This already seemed intimidating. "Just follow me; everything's going to be fine." As Lipton moved through, the group of men parted like the Red Sea. It was an amazing sight.

Before she left, though, something quickly came to mind. Krista ran back over to Webster, who still looked rather confused. She cupped her hands over his ear so only they would know.

"Join the pool. Tell…Muck that my name is Krista." Webster looked at her funny when she pulled away but he smiled, understanding. Krista, then, took her leave following Lipton to what, she did not know.

* * *

Captain Winters, she assumed, stared at her from across a small table. Lipton had led her to this tent a few minutes before where she had to wait for the Captain. No doubt he had other pressing matters to address. While waiting, Krista took the time to think things over, about what happened today. She found it so easy to talk, to act like herself around these complete strangers she had only met yesterday. Why was it so easy? Why was she so willing to laugh, joke, even flirt with them? But the biggest question was: why was it so easy to forget Pierre? Dead today, forgotten tomorrow. He had said that once. All one could do was move on but this was not the case with her. The voices at night were proof she had not moved on. Darkness brought the terror back. This could not continue forever; it had to stop.

It was at this point Captain Winters had stepped into the tent along with 'Nix' who now stood behind her. Now she waited for someone to speak, there would be no first words from her. The fear of saying something stupid kept her mouth shut.

The Captain cleared his throat. "Well, I'm not exactly sure how to begin this. We get cases like yours..."

"Never." 'Nix' finished.

"Yeah, never. So if I go too far, ask a question you don't want to answer, just tell us." Krista nodded, understanding. "Well, I guess we should start with names seeing as how you probably know half the company by now. I am Captain Richard Winters and the man behind you is Captain Lewis Nixon." She turned around and received a warm smile from the latter.

She smiled as well. "How is your head?"

"Well, it's still attached and-″ Nixon stopped as he looked at Winters. His look must have been disapproving. "Yeah, it's fine, thanks."

Krista turned back to Winters. He did not smile; he was serious at the moment. She understood. There were times her father would not smile for weeks, the job often requires that.

"You want my name?"

Winters nodded. "Yes, that would help."

She sighed, making the correct assumption that the officers had no knowledge of the pool, much less have participated in it. "My name is Krista." She sat silently, waiting, feeling as though saying her name would reveal all her secrets. Of course, that had not happened with the other two people she had spoken to but the feeling of interrogation had not existed then. The questioning was going to be long and painful, even if there was no torture. She was going to have to make up stuff again.

"Krista?" She nodded. "Well, then, I guess the obvious question would be: how did you end up in the closet?"

Her mind briefly drifted back to the darkness, the solitude, the silent torture. Brushing it away quickly, Krista answered, "The Germans grew tired of me…I would not answer their questions." The air in the room changed. Krista could feel their anger now. More people finding out why the war was fought.

"And they did not lock the door; barricade it in any way even when they left you alone?"

Krista shook her head. "They knew I would not leave…not with…" Her voice trailed off; she did not want to finish the sentence.

Winters nodded solemnly. "Who was he?" Krista was quiet for such a long time he thought she would never answer and began to regret asking.

"Pierre," she said after a while. "Pierre Durand."

Nixon now took a seat next to her. "He was French?"

"Born in…St. Lô…he never left France until a few months ago when we heard of the…invasion."

Winters leaned forward, intrigued. "He knew about the invasion?"

She nodded. "Pierre was French Resistance…so was I." The looks of curiosity and confusion could not be contained. Now she would have to make a story up, and fast too. Pierre being her half brother because of Cabaret seemed a little far fetched at the moment, especially since she was no longer Austrian. She was Dutch now. Over the last couple years, though, she had grown quite accustomed to making up background stories so it should not have been too difficult. Oh, but she hated lying to them. These were not German soldiers, they were Americans who had just saved her life; she owed them the truth but the truth could turn them against her. Lying was best right now…she hoped.

"I…I was in France when they came…I am a ballet student." That part was actually true. Krista's mother had put her in ballet when she was young, much to her dismay. She hated ballet but when her mother died, she continued out of respect and learned to tolerate it. "After they came…I never danced again. I met Pierre…he kept me safe…wanted to marry me…" Her voice trailed off once again. That last part was true as well. After many months together, Pierre had shown interest in the idea. He never proposed formally but was always bringing it into conversations. She would have never said yes anyway. Pierre was, and always would be, that annoying man she had to put up with for two years.

The two officers remained silent, looking at each other. They had no reason to doubt her story. One look at her and anyone would believe her words were true.

Krista decided to continue. "We came here. My parents were dead. My brother was taken by the Gestapo. We were captured looking for him." The last part about her brother was difficult, after all she knew what he was but the looks on either man's face did not change so she must have performed well.

Winters spoke after a while. "Your brother, what is his name?"

She debated for a few moments on whether or not she should tell them his real name. No other names came to mind so she decided to chance it.

"Dieter."

Nixon shifted in his seat. "Dutch Resistance?"

"Yes."

They were silent again, most likely thinking about where to put her. This made her think as well. Where would they put her? She could not stay in Holland. The memories were too dangerous and the Germans were too close. If the Americans were driven back, what would happen to her? Capture a second time would certainly end in her death. Go back to France? No. She could no longer tolerate 

that country, at least for long periods of time. Maybe now she could get to England like Pierre had always intended. A new country, new people to get used to and no proof that she was either Dutch or French. It did not sound as safe or as liberating as it had before.

It occurred to her then that she did not want to leave these men. She had just gotten to know and like a few. Leaving now meant never knowing what happened to them, and they would not know her fate. She would never forget them but maybe they would forget her though, judging by some reactions, that was doubtful. Either way, she wanted to stay near them.

"Captain…" Krista started, almost afraid to continue. Both men looked at her though Nixon knew she was referring to Winters. "I would like to stay with you…with your…"She tried to remember the first thing Guarnere had said. "…Easy Company?" At this point it did not sound like a request but more or less a question of if she got the last part right.

Nixon began to laugh. Krista felt her eyes narrow again. Perhaps she should quit speaking though she was not sure what he was laughing at, her request or how she spoke. Either way, it was because of something she had said.

Winters quieted the other Captain by giving him another look. He turned back to Krista, more serious than ever. "Out of the question, we're a combat outfit. You're a civilian. If word got out that you were with us, it would be my head but more importantly, you could get hurt or worse."

Krista snorted, anger rising. Stubborn as always, she was not about to let that be the end of it. "I have been hurt…I have been tortured…shot at…in a city bombed, Stuka or larger…I have seen Luftwaffe, Kriegsmarine, Panzergrenadiers, Schutzstaffel, Gestapo, Tigers, Panzers…I have seen…combat."

Nixon stared blankly, no longer feeling the urge to laugh. Winters did as well before answering.

"That's not the point. No one will take you; they don't want you dying on their watch…why do you want to come with us anyway?"

She leaned back in the chair, trying to calm down. Losing her head was not going to do her any good here. He was not her father. "I wish to look for my brother." She paused; Winters did not look convinced. "If they run like they did last time you came…we could save him…I could save him…just let me look for my brother." It was true, she did want to search for her brother, if only to beat him, curse him, strike his name out of the family tree. Watch the Americans imprison him but in better conditions than the German camps, much to her disappointment. He should feel what it is like to be a prisoner of the Germans, more specifically, the Gestapo. Mostly, Krista wanted to look for him because she wanted to feel that she was not the only one left of her family. She had felt so alone in that closet and never wanted to feel that way again.

Winters said nothing but Nixon nodded. "C'mon Dick, let her look for her brother. It's not like we'll have the time to."

The other Captain looked betrayed. "I thought you were on my side."

"Because I laughed? No! Did you not hear how she pronounced 'Easy?'" The gratitude Krista felt toward Nixon began to slip and he now received the 'look' from her, shutting him up…again.

Krista looked at Winters. "Please…if I cannot go with you, I will go on my own. If I die, do you want that on your…" How did Pierre say it? "…con…scious…" Nixon covered his laugh with a cough but that did not stop him from receiving another look.

Winters stared at Krista for a long while, looking defeated. Her eyes were pleading with him, begging for a chance.

"Alright," he said putting his hand up quickly to silence her excitement. "But you will stay in the rear and the minute anything happens, I better see you looking for cover." Krista nodded. "Have you worked with the Dutch Resistance?"

"Only with my brother…but I know them."

Winters nodded. "Good. Nix, see if you can't get her to talk with one of them…and get her a better outfit. We'll try to pass her off as a Resistance fighter. If they use children, a woman should not be too unusual." Winters stood to leave. Before he could, though, Krista walked over and gave him a hug, was almost tempted to give him a kiss until she saw him turning brick red. It was now he noticed something she had been trying hard to cover up.

"Wha…what about that…cut?" He asked a little flustered.

She did not look at it. "It is fine. Thank you." Hugging Winters one more time, Krista headed out of the tent with Nixon in tow. The look on his face was that of pure satisfaction as he watched his friend squirm.

* * *

**September 1942**

**Outside Strasbourg, France**

"_Are you trying to get yourself killed?"_ Pierre asked as both he and Krista stormed into the cabin. Krista stopped before the hole in the floor and planted her feet firmly, prepared to fight back. _"What were you thinking going out there by yourself? The Gestapo are everywhere!"_

"_What do you expect me to do? For two months I have been stuck in this rotting thing I'm supposed to call home while you go out and do whatever it is you do for days on end! I cannot sit here all the time! I need a change of scenery once in a while, or at least something to do!"_

Pierre slammed the door shut. The entire cabin shook. _"Well, I am sorry war is such an inconvenience for you! You are wanted! You can't leave! The minute someone sees you, that's it! Off you go to be tortured and killed!_"

"_It is better than going crazy in here!"_ Krista turned around, stepped over the bucket, and stormed off to her room. She shut the door, not as hard as Pierre had, still managing to make the cabin shake. Pierre followed her and tried to push open the door only to find that it would not budge.

In her room, Krista sat on the bunk bed, staring at the door. She had shoved a chair under the knob so try as he might, Pierre was not getting in unless he wanted some other part of the cabin to fall apart. _"You are not coming in here! This is my room; you gave it to me! Leave me alone!"_

"_It seems that I can't leave you alone!"_ yelled his voice from the other side of the door, still as clear as it had been in the living room. _"You have a death wish! Your father worked hard to keep you alive and this is how you repay him?"_

"_I never asked for this! He should have thought about what would happen before he tried anything, then maybe I wouldn't be here!"_

"_There you go again! Everything is about you isn't it? You cannot think about someone else for once, can you?"_

"_Neither can you!"_

She heard him laughing outside the door. _"That's funny! Me not caring for anyone else? Last time I checked, I was risking my life to keep you safe!"_

"_Risking your life? All you are doing is locking me up in a cabin! If you really cared, you would put me somewhere where I wouldn't go stir crazy, where I would not be alone with the thought that my father is the most wanted man in all of Europe! Where I would not have to stare at the backpack all day and wonder what is in there!"_

"_I never said you couldn't look in it!" _

This took Krista by surprise. She had not expected that response. "_What?"_

"_I never said that you could not look in the backpack."_ His voice was calmer now, though more cold. "_Your father thought I should wait until the right time. I say the sooner the better_." She heard his footsteps head out of the kitchen and the floor moan as Pierre sat down on the cot.

She could look in the backpack? Krista looked at it sitting in the corner of the room. For weeks it had been torturing her, begging her to open it and uncover its secret. Mostly, she had never opened it because she did not want to. Whatever was in there, it was something her father was willing to risk his life for, willing to kill for. She did not want to know why but at the same time, she was curious. Why not know what you are risking your life for?

Krista sat there for a while, debating what to do. Finally, curiosity got the best of her and she grabbed the backpack. She tried to open it quietly so that Pierre would not know but that seemed pointless. The thing was so loud. Besides, he probably knew that she would open it. Why else would she have been so quiet?

There it was. The small file on the inside filled with papers that would change her life. There was something else inside as well. An envelope. Krista grabbed that one first.

It had her name on it, Sabine Krista Nimholtz, in her father's writing. Sabine. She had never liked her first name; she was named after some dead aunt on her mother's side of the family. Everyone just called her Krista. Even her mother had. She had no idea why her father wrote her name on the envelope. To get her attention, she supposed.

Carefully, she took out the letter inside.

_Krista_

_I hope you can forgive me for what I have put you through. There have been so many times that I have reconsidered doing this. The thought of what could happen to you kills me inside but this is something I must do. So many lives have been lost. You know I have never been good at explaining things so I hope that what is in that file will satisfy you. What you see in it is for your eyes only, no one else's. They cannot help the Allies, I have tried already. They will find all the proof they need when they arrive, whenever that may be. I only have these papers because I need you to know what is happening. You must know the truth._

_I must make this short, there is not much time. Know that I love you more than life itself and that I am doing this so our family does not have to live with the guilt of what our leaders have done. Evil exists, my daughter. I cannot hide it from you any longer._

There was a large blank space and something else that seemed to be scribbled in last minute at the bottom.

_Forgive your brother, Krista. I already have._

Krista reread the letter several times. I did not answer any questions. He said the other papers would. She grabbed the file and stared at it. While reading the letter, she had stood up and did not feel like sitting now. Slowly, she unbound the string and took out the first paper, a picture. The moment she saw it, everything dropped out of her hands. She began to back up toward the wall in surprise, horror, disgust, disbelief. Hitting the wall, she began to slide down it, still looking at the one picture that sat on the floor along with others like it.

Death. That was what it was. Death. Bodies. Men… Women… Children. Hunger. Starvation. Execution. Death.

Something was around the body, around its neck.

A Star of David.

Jews.

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Well, there you go! Another chapter installed! I hope you guys liked it!

Thanks to everyone who wished me luck on the ACT, I got a good score!


	6. Changing Attitudes

* * *

I guess I should do a disclaimer. Oops.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from Band of Brothers. Krista and her story do belong to me though. Thank you.**

**HollyPup  
Rebelchild218  
Myystikal  
IKeepGoldFishInMyBra  
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the rory lewis band  
Heartcore**

**I worship you too! My back hurts...can I stop please?**

Alright…congrats to Justin Morneau (sighs) on winning the Home Run Derby and on scoring the game winning run at the All Star Game!! Whoo! Morneau for MVP!!

I realized I have continuity issues. My apologies.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Changing Attitudes**

**September 1944**

**Tongelre, Holland**

Easy Company, the now confirmed name of the men she was staying with, camped out around Eindhoven, or what was left of it, for a couple days. Many of the buildings she had come to know over the past few months were either damaged or nonexistent, fires still smoldered on every street and every minute that passed brought another victim to knowledge. The men would wander into town to help if they could but most wished to avoid it; to watch the look of hope fade again from the people's faces was too much to bear. In their hearts, they had let them down.

Krista stayed with an older woman for those few days who, much to her disappointment, was very attentive to her physical condition. She all but stuffed food down her throat and scrubbed her skin raw while mumbling something in Dutch, something Krista could only guess at but she was fairly certain that it was not far off. The woman exercised no restraint when cleaning her cut and slapped her when a small shriek escaped her throat. Van Kooijk, she did not know his first name nor anyone else's in the Dutch Underground, set her up with this woman and, while Krista would never hit an elder, nothing kept her from getting back at Van, which was what she called him after pronouncing his name wrong. Needless to say, his face was redder on one side for a few hours.

During the day when she was not being tortured by the Dutch woman, Krista would spend her time at a little orphanage that was at the edge of town with the only people who had it worse off than she did. The building had been spared but unfortunately there were a few more occupants whose parents were dead, injured or still missing. Bill Guarnere and a few others came to the orphanage the other day; Krista watched them from a distance as they tried to speak to the children, most of whom had no idea what they were saying. Guarnere was the most popular. She figured it was the accent, finding herself strangely attracted to the conversation that even she sometimes did not understand.

Nights, on the other hand, were a completely different story. Krista would do anything to keep from sleeping. She would read and write, though it had to be in German; most books in English had words too complicated for her to even attempt. She could not keep a light on but bombing in the distance gave her enough. If her eyes ever did close, they were instantly opened by a sudden violent image or a scream echoing in the distance, hopefully not hers. No one ever came, so she had to assume.

Today, though, would be different; the men were moving out. Happy to have the old woman out of her hair, Krista did not bother to say goodbye; the woman would not understand and she could not find her anyway. She stood near the corner of a building watching the men of Easy Company gather around the trucks. Wearing pants, work boots and a jacket, Krista felt comfortable for the first time in a long while. She also wore her hair in a bun, to keep it out of the way, and it brought her back to better days in France, days where she was helping a cause, like now, but Pierre was still alive.

A voice across from her distracted Krista from the encroaching memories.

"I thought I might find you here." Van walked over, a strange smile on his face that was not uncommon for him. "I was going to get you but you were already here. Always ahead of me even without the Frenchman." He saw her frown. "I am sorry."

"It is alright. You meant no harm." Krista glanced at the trucks quickly. "Come to say goodbye?"

Van nodded. "And to wish you good luck. The Americans are heading to Uden to stop some German tanks. You are going to be on the front lines now. Be careful."

Krista gave a knowing smile. "I have been on the frontlines for years. This should be no different."

"Except the Germans do not use artillery on the land they own." The words were chilling but true. She had heard stories from others that one knew nothing of combat until they had survived German artillery, that the sound alone could drive a man insane. According to them, she did not know combat but right now, that did not matter to her. She had seen so much already; she felt as prepared as one could be.

While Krista contemplated his last words, Van got closer, placing himself in front of her so that none of the other men could see what he was doing. She watched him pull something out of his pocket.

"No." she said calmly, eyes widening slightly as she backed away. "I will not take it." Van had pulled out a pistol and was holding it out in front, not caring about Krista's reaction.

"It is dangerous now. The Americans have their orders; there will be no one to protect you." He tried to push it into her hands but Krista resisted.

"I have not touched one. I will not now." Van moved closer, grabbing her shirt so she could not move away. Krista could not back up anymore, she had hit a wall. Both glanced in either direction, making sure no one was looking.

Van sighed. "I know this is hard but you cannot avoid it forever. Pierre cannot save you anymore." He knew a nerve was struck by the look on her face but it was the only way he was going to get her to do anything. Krista began to think about Pierre. He had died saving her. She could not get herself killed now, could not let him die for nothing.

She frowned, grabbing the pistol and shoving it into a pocket on the inside of her jacket. Pierre could not be used to convince her to do things forever; she would not allow that to happen. Fortunately, soon she would be leaving everyone who knew about him, or at least about what happened. They could no longer force her out of guilt, only she was capable of that now.

"Do not argue with the Dutch.' That was what he said." They both smiled. "I will see you again."

"In this life I hope." Van began to leave; he had many things to tend to. "If the Americans upset you, you can always come back to Eindhoven. There are plenty of men here who have had their eyes on you."

Krista almost laughed. Always joking, no wonder Pierre liked him. She loved Eindhoven but could not come back. Seeing it destroyed, knowing that Pierre had been alive here at one point was too much for her to handle. Maybe years from now, when the wounds had healed, she would return but certainly not while the battle scars still existed in this country.

"Easy Company!" The loud commanding voice that Krista almost instantly recognized as Winters boomed over the group of men. To be honest, she did not expect such a voice to come from the Captain, not after their 'meeting' but, then again, she supposed he had not expected her to be so…stubborn about her situation. They were even now.

Their side of town fell silent, everyone watching the red head on the back of a truck in front of them. "We're moving out to the city of Uden. Dutch Underground has informed us of some Panzers that are heading in that direction. Captain Nixon has managed to secure us some trucks." There were a few cheers in the crowd. "Unfortunately, there's not enough for all of us. They're going to have to make two trips. I want third platoon and half of second on these trucks in five minutes." With that said Winters stepped off the truck and let the platoon leaders get their men in order. He made a beeline for Krista, slowing down only when he realized his pace was a little fast and that the men were watching suspiciously.

He stopped and made the conversation brief. "I want you on the second trip. If we get into a fight over there, the column will stop right before it so you can find safety. Understand?" Krista nodded and watched Winters disappear into the crowd of men. He must have been going with the first group. She did not mind going last as long as she was leaving.

Krista wandered into the group of men as well, wanting to see which men she knew were leaving. She had no idea what a platoon was, much less who was in third or second. Men passed her by with simple nods or stares. Some of the younger ones had a wide-eyed look. They must not have been in combat long. The ones who appeared to have been in longer did not pay her much attention anymore. They had come to expect strange things from war.

"Would you take a look at Krista now! You look like you was born to do this." Krista looked over to see Guarnere and three others she did not recognize. They were leaning against the back of one of the trucks. The other day, Nixon, being the intelligence officer, informed Easy Company of their guest's name and of her intention to stay with them, much to the delight of the majority. This concluded the story of how Webster got 150 dollars in Holland.

Crossing her arms, Krista walked over to the men. "You said 'was' again."

"That I did." Guarnere gave her a once over. "Dutch Resistance, huh?" He either concluded this because Nixon told them or from the band on her left arm. It said 'oranje,' which was orange. The Germans forbade it; what better way for the rebels to represent themselves?

"For now." She gave him a funny smile which he offered in return. They were silent for a moment until one of the men coughed, yearning to get to know the woman a little more.

"Oh yeah, these guys. This one to my right is Joe Toye." Toye was a tall man with dark, handsome features. Krista instantly took a liking to him. "Babe Heffron is next. He's another South Philly resident. So, yeah he talks like me." Heffron was shorter than the others, only slightly taller than she was. He looked young, maybe that was why they called him Babe. "And Don Malarkey, only guy here not from Pennsylvania." The first things she noticed about Malarkey was his red hair, almost the color of Winters'. Then she saw his smile. He offered a hand where the others just gave a polite nod.

Krista took his hand. "Where are you from?"

"Astoria, Oregon, ma'am." She tried to remember geography class.

"Pacific Ocean?"

He smiled. "Yeah, that's right."

"I have never seen it."

"Well, I'm sure you'd like it."

It was now that Guarnere decided it was best to step in. "Alright, cut it out, no one's flirting with her."

Heffron smiled. "Cept you, right?"

"Shut up and get in the truck." Heffron obeyed, though the smile was much larger now, and climbed into the truck along with Toye. Guarnere looked back at Krista. "Now, these guys have two things in common. They're all damn good soldiers…and they're all Micks." Another confused look. "Uh…Irish."

Toye frowned. "Tell you what, Bill. If she ever calls me a Mick, I'm punching you in the mouth." Krista had a horrified look on her face that everyone noticed.

Guarnere put his arm around her shoulder. "Don't worry, he's joking." He began to walk away with her, Malarkey in tow.

"Are you sure?" Krista asked, concerned.

"Yeah, he does that a lot." Guarnere looked back at Toye who waved but kept a rather creepy look on his face that did not reassure Krista, or Bill for that matter. 'That's the last time I make introductions.' He thought to himself.

Heffron looked at the man across from him. "You sure like making the girl paranoid, don't ya?" Toye did not respond nor did he look back. "Quit drooling, Sarge." This got his attention.

Toye glared at the replacement. "Bill's right, shut up." Now Heffron was laughing.

Krista looked at Guarnere and Malarkey. "Are you not going with?"

Guarnere shook his head. "Second platoon is split in half. Our lieutenant decided to take the first so I volunteered to stay behind." She did not bother asking; she was not capable of repeating half of the words. "Sides, someone has to look out for you."

Krista stopped in her tracks, putting her hands on her hips, feeling the pistol push against her skin. "I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you can but that's not what the brass thinks."

Before Krista could question what Guarnere just said, Malarkey interrupted. "Nah, the brass thinks you can too. Bill just wants to spend some quality time with you." Guarnere shot him a look, feeling almost betrayed. Malarkey just smiled, enjoying the sound of Krista's laughter in the background.

Guarnere looked at Krista who quickly quieted herself, though the smile remained. He sighed. "I should just keep my big mouth shut."

"Can't see that happening." Krista turned around. They had stumbled upon a group of men who appeared to be sitting in a giant crater, probably from the bombing. There was Luz, who had spoken, Webster and another man she did not know. She, Malarkey and Guarnere sat in the crater next to them.

Guarnere rolled his eyes. "Anyone else want to take a shot at my ego?"

The man she did not know looked up. "Your aim is horrible and so is your breath." He looked at Krista. "Johnny Martin." She nodded then looked back at Guarnere. He looked rather fed up but was nodding.

"Alright then."

Martin looked at Malarkey. "What are you still doing here?"

Malarkey smiled. "Lieutenant told me to stay back, wanted to take the machine guns instead."

Guarnere shook his head, not agreeing with it. "Yeah, well the Lieutenant's piss for brains." While others nodded in agreement, Krista looked over at Webster for some kind of explanation. He just shook his head, ashamed of his comrade's poor choice of words.

"Who cares? I'm fine with staying."

"You're just here for the girl."

"Isn't that why you're here?"

Guarnere threw his hands up in defeat. "Jesus Christ, pick on someone else!" Krista smiled, enjoying the conversation that was unraveling. She liked that they did not pay her much attention. It was nice to see how the men normally acted, each one reminding her of someone she knew once.

"Alright. Hey, Web, how'd you get her name right?"

Webster looked at Krista and smiled. "Why the hell should I tell you?" While another argument began, Krista looked to the man on her left. It was Luz who had not spoken since they had arrived. He was picking at the phone.

"What is it?" She asked. Luz looked up at her, a little surprised that she had spoken to him.

"What, this? It's a radio. Funny looking isn't it?" Krista nodded. "You know, your bruises are looking a lot better. I can barely see them now."

She smiled. "You are the only one who talks about them to me."

Luz frowned, reddening a little. "Geez, I'm sorry. It's not like that's the only thing I notice and…" He could not think of anything else.

"It is okay, you just care." Seeing her smile grow, Luz felt reassured.

"Yeah, I guess so." He paused. "You know, you're the best looking girl I've seen so far in Europe."

"Goddamnit, everyone stop flirting with the girl!" Guarnere shouted, distracting the men in the crater so they could not see her blush.

"I'll stop when you do Bill." Suddenly, everyone was yelling back and forth. Krista looked around at the other men of Easy Company. Most were looking in their direction, interested. She looked back at the arguing men and wished they would stop, hating the attention. It was also getting rather annoying. These Americans were taking things too seriously. She looked at Martin who seemed to be the only one not yelling. He was enjoying this as well. Krista was getting sick of it. She could understand why they were arguing, war could do that, but enough was enough.

"Quiet!" She shouted. The men were instantly silent, staring at her with widening eyes. Krista felt herself sinking closer to the ground.

Martin was laughing. "Tell you what, if women get this kind of reaction all the time, the Army should let them enlist." The men began to laugh, their attention once again diverted. It was a confusing thing. One second, the men are at each others throats and the next they are laughing it up, all because of one little comment. Certainly her time with them was going to be very interesting. She began to wonder how long Winters would let her stick around. Chances were slim that they would ever find her brother. He could be anywhere at this point, including Russia though she doubted that.

"First and second platoon, let's get moving!" Someone shouted. "The trucks will be back soon!" Men everywhere began to congregate where the trucks had once been. Krista looked over at them just noticing that they had left. She had not even heard them leave. Apparently the confusion was mutual.

"How the hell did they get the tanks to move so fast?" Malarkey asked.

Guarnere shrugged. "Eh, go figure but I bet with our luck these Limeys'll have they're tea break halfway there."

Krista made a face. "I hate tea."

The men began to laugh again as they all made their way over. Soon enough, the trucks did arrive and had encountered little resistance on the way over. Guarnere helped Krista onto the truck where she made her way to the back corner. She looked over and saw Luz, Martin and Webster board another truck while there was still plenty of room on theirs. The others did not question it so she did not either. They were all heading to the same place so it did not matter.

She watched other men board their truck that she did not know but no introductions were made which was fine with her. Krista had learned enough new names for one day.

A loud metallic sound from behind caught Krista's attention. Taking the last position in the column was a tank unlike any she had seen. Krista stared in fascination which caught the attention of the spotter sitting on top.

"Beauty isn't she?" He asked, British accent thick and obvious. Krista nodded in agreement. "Care for a ride?" Before Krista could respond, Guarnere stood up.

"Nice try Limey but the girl is ours!"

Krista felt her anger and annoyance rising. She was sick of everyone making decisions for her. "I am not yours!"

"I didn't mean it like that, it's just-″

"Why don't you listen to the young lady?" The man from the tank shouted over.

"Why don't you shut up? I've got a Captain that says she stays with us!"

"Suppose I'm a Major, what would your Captain say then?" Krista watched the argument with her mouth wide open. A few days ago, the men had done nothing like this. Apparently she was not the only one who had changed since their meeting. Everyone was acting so different, or at least Guarnere was. She did not know the other men enough to see any difference.

"How the hell am I supposed to know if you're a Major? You could be a private for all I know!"

"You bloody Yanks, you're all so daft you couldn't tell a Major from your arse even if he introduced himself!" The other men in the truck took offense at this and began to hurl insults at the Englander. This continued for a few minutes until two officers, one American the other British, sick of the disorderly conduct, calmly walked over and told the men to 'kindly shut their traps or they'd all be court-martialed.' That quieted them down. Soon enough the trucks got moving.

No one spoke to Krista during the trip. She did not feel like talking for fear that it might cause another argument. Instead, she took in the countryside as they traveled down the road she had heard some men call 'Hell's Highway.' It was scenic, filled with farmland and rolling hills, but also rather wet. There had been a lot of rain in Holland, more than she had ever experienced back home.

Home. What did it look like now? Had someone moved into their house taking advantage of all the priceless antiques that littered the rooms? Had they burned it down thinking that the building had no right to remain? After all, it had housed a traitor and his family. She began to wonder what became of the maid. Surely they must have questioned her. Would they have killed her? Krista shuddered at the thought. Maybe their house had been bombed. She had seen Allied planes fly overhead on those kinds of missions. Could they have reached her home? Was all that she had known now a smoldering heap? Did all the people she once knew even exist anymore? Such horrid thoughts, she needed to think of something else.

Had they passed Nuenen? Krista had not been in the country long enough to know where everything was. She did not even know what direction they were heading so she began to watch any little town that passed wondering if that was it, wondering if in one of those buildings was Pierre, his body so very alone and dead. No one knew of his fate…only her. It was a terrible burden to carry but to tell others would mean making up more lies or telling the truth. She had no idea which would be worse.

They approached a rather large city that sat on the highway. The sign said 'Veghel.' Someone shouted that they were halfway there. Krista began to wonder where she would have to hide. If the battle had already started, her options were limited. If it was true that they were going against Panzers that list all but disappeared. Where could one hide from a tank?

Krista was leaning on the railing of the truck with her head on her arms. The warm sun was comforting and she felt herself drifting to sleep. It had been two days since she had last slept and that too was on a truck, maybe it was because it was outside or because she was not alone. She could not fight it nor did she want to. Just as her eyes were about to close though, the truck slammed on the brakes causing Krista to hit her head and fall down. She almost swore in German but remembered her situation so she managed an 'ow' as Malarkey helped her up.

The trucks began to turn around just as some British soldiers came running by them.

"What the hell's going on?" Guarnere asked one of them.

"Jerry's cut the road!" One shouted as the men helped him climb aboard. "Bastards got the lead tank and almost had us before we dashed out of there. We're falling back to Veghel." All the men began to look nervous. They watched the road for any sign of the Germans as the trucks sped back to Veghel. Krista was surprisingly calm though she was beginning to regret coming with. Ten minutes with them and they were already in combat.

The trucks screeched to a halt inside the city nearly barreling over men that were already on the ground. Their drivers wasted no time in climbing out and neither did the passengers. Guarnere began shouting orders at the men in the truck, forgetting about Krista. Van was right; the men had no time to look after someone like her.

Krista jumped out and wandered around in the middle of the street watching the men set up stuff for a defense. Suddenly things got very quiet as the men focused their attention on a buzzing noise that was continually getting louder.

"Stuka!" Someone shouted. Everyone ran for cover wherever they could find it. Krista scrunched up in a corner by a staircase, covering her head with her hands, wishing she had a helmet like the rest of the men. She heard the plane get closer and began to wonder where it would drop the bombs. Would it be right over her? She was tempted to move but where else was there to go?

An explosion ripped through the city, shattering the nearby windows and spraying glass on her. She could not help but scream a little. More explosions came through spraying more debris on her until she felt something covering her. It was a person; she did not care who it was as long as they were there and did not die. The bombing continued for a few more seconds and then the city fell eerily silent except for the moans of pain from the injured. Krista looked over at her protector. It was Webster. He gave a small smile.

"This seems strangely familiar." Krista did not smile; he did not expect one. They looked around at the damage. Most of the windows in the buildings were blown out and a few had even collapsed. This was from one maybe two Stukas. What if more came? She could already hear more explosions in the distance.

"Everyone out! Find a basement or something; we've got shells coming in!" Guarnere was standing in the middle of the road, holding his weapon in one hand, waving men through with the other. He was in his element here. Any stupidity he had exhibited before was now gone. Here no one could challenge him, not if he knew they were wrong. He'd yell at an officer if he had to, which he had already done once.

The city abandoned its defenses. There was no point with the shelling. Everyone scattered to various parts as the shells started coming in. Now Krista understood what Van meant, what the others had meant. The shelling was horrible. It made a noise that would haunt her and so many others for years, its destruction extensive and when one landed where she and Webster once stood, Krista now knew that she was in combat. Nothing before compared.

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**September 1942**

**Outside Strasbourg, France**

Jews. Russians. Poles. The crippled and the weak. The deaf, blind, and mute. Outcasts. Each subjected to various forms of torture whether starvation, lack of water, overworking or disturbing experiments, sometimes all of them. Before her lay the results of all of them, proof of their leader's sanity or lack of it. Was this the new Germany that he prophesized about, rising from the ashes only to crush another? Eliminate all those who oppose, disturb or just cannot keep up. But why the Jews? What had they ever done? Krista remembered a boy she once knew many years ago. He was Jewish but there was nothing wrong with him; he was no different than any of the other children. In fact, he was popular, liked by everyone. His father had even served in the war. Where was he now? Had he been sent to one of these camps? Was one of these bodies in the pictures his?

Auschwitz. Bergen-Belsen. Treblinka. So many others where the people were sent. Filled with living quarters, if they could be called that for animals lived in a better state, work sites and the crematoriums. That word alone made her shudder. It held the gas chamber where the physically unfit were sent to be…exterminated; that was the word they used, like the people were no better than roaches, insects, pests that needed to be wiped off the face of the planet. It was disturbing.

They would burn the bodies. There would be no evidence that those people even existed. Who knows how many bodies were burned, how many were killed. Would they ever know?

'Work makes one free.' That is what a sign said at Auschwitz. What it failed to mention was the freedom was that of a permanent kind only given to those after their death. Work. What were they even doing and why did they have to do it? None of this made sense but it could not be explained. Why would these people agree? Why would they listen? It was insanity! Was it not obvious?

She never knew. Hundreds of thousands of people killed and she never knew. She lived her life like nothing was going on. How could she not know? Were there not signs? Was she so blind? Maybe she did not want to know and that was why she did not look.

She hated herself for not looking, for not knowing, for living a perfect life while they lost theirs. These people were only guilty of trying to live a good life and they were being punished for it, being forced to live in a condition that a dog would never come to know. All for what? For the master race? For the Aryans? Blonde hair, blue eyes…that was key. A standard set by the leader who had neither. Should that not have been a sign there?

She did not know how long she sat there but it must have been a while for she heard movement outside her door. Pierre was in the kitchen. Perhaps he was concerned.

Krista moved over to the door making sure not to touch the pictures nor look at them. She could not stand the sight anymore and yet this was something those people had to deal with everyday. How could they do it? How could they keep going like that?

Pierre did not react when she opened the door. He sat at the table, his back to her, staring off into space.

"_Are these real?"_ She asked already knowing the answer.

He laughed a little. _"What, you think people are capable of faking those?"_ She moved through the kitchen and sat across from him, trying to avoid his stare but it could not be helped.

"_I did not know."_

"_You think that is an excuse?"_ The cold had not left his voice, if anything it was harsher.

"_No, but it is true…"_ She struggled for words as the images flashed into her mind over and over. _"I…I would have never…"_ The words would not come. Her lip began to tremble and tears burned her eyes. _"If I knew…I don't know what I would have done…if I knew…I can't say it would have been different…not while I was there…but I am here now…"_ She paused. _"I want to help you. Let me do anything. I refuse to be apart of that. I refuse to be…German."_

Pierre nodded. _"Good because we leave this place tomorrow."_ With that he stood and walked away. She could hear the door open and shut. As soon as she certain that he was well gone, Krista collapsed on the table and cried like she never had. Tears for the victims and for herself for being such an idiot.

* * *

Ta da!


	7. On the Front Lines

Hellooooo!! Been a bit but I'm back! I hope you guys enjoy the latest chapter! It's a little hard to write because I have almost nothing to base this attack on. It's not in the mini series and they talk about it very little in the books. I hope you find it satisfactory.

**Author's Note: **The flashbacks are a little different this time. I put them randomly in the middle of the story. Hope you don't get too confused with them.

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**Chapter Seven: On the Front Lines**

**September 1944**

**Veghel, Holland**

Somehow they had found a cellar to take shelter in. Krista could not remember how they got there, all she could remember was the screaming of the shells, and men, and the sight of buildings exploding on either side as things men referred to as 88s tore into them. Now she found herself sitting in a corner watching a Dutch family mumble prayers on the other side. With every shell that hit, the building shook a little more and dust fell from the rafters. Guarnere, Luz, Malarkey and Webster were tucked in another corner talking things over. She had no idea where anyone else was, neither did the others.

Another shell exploded outside causing the candles that let the cellar to dim. The family whimpered; the men looked over.

Guarnere sighed. "Christ I don't know what's worse: being up there getting your brains busted or being down here waiting for it."

Bang. Darker.

The eerie shadows cast upon the walls began to take shape. She watched them create their story of destruction, unafraid of the end. So many shells had passed over since they had arrived that she was already used to them…well, about as used to as one can get. She no longer glanced at the sky as one whistled overhead nor did she mumble random wishes under her breath; she just sat and waited.

Bang. The candles went out. Screams came from the family, profanity from the paratroopers. Krista did nothing; she simply watched the spot where the light had once been.

There was a click and a light came on. One of the men had a flashlight. The light fell on her and her eyes squinted but that was the only reaction. It then turned to the family who quieted down upon its sight. Krista prayed that the men would not ask her to talk to them. It was answered for they spoke nothing of the subject.

"Fucking Krauts won't give up until the whole city's leveled." Luz said as he lit another match, making his way to the candles once more.

Kraut: her least favorite of German slang words, not that she liked any of them. It came from a word for cabbage but that was not the part she hated about it. Every time that word was said there was just something inside of her that wanted to explode. The way that word sounded, it was just not right. Then again, she was not a Kraut. She was not them, not the ones the men hated. Of course, if they found out she was German, they would not be able to tell the difference.

The light slowly returned as the candles caught fire. More shadows, more fear. Her life was not getting better. Not worse but most certainly not better.

A figure stretched out. "Might as well try to get some sleep." It was Malarkey. The others turned to him.

"Did you say sleep?" Guarnere asked.

"Yep."

She could hear Webster laughing softly. "How do you expect us to do that?"

Malarkey shrugged. "I don't know. Close your eyes and try to ignore it, pretend it's a thunderstorm outside."

"This sure as hell ain't like any thunderstorm I've ever heard." Guarnere looked around. "This place is about to collapse." Bang. Dust drifted down onto Krista's head and she began to sneeze. The wood also began to moan making the cellar occupants feel uneasy.

"That may be true but I'll take my chances." Luz got on his back and, using his hands as pillows, tried to fall asleep. Webster leaned against a beam and closed his eyes as well, mumbling a 'what the hell' before he did so.

Guarnere maneuvered his way around the bodies of his comrades and took a seat next to Krista.

"You plan on falling asleep anytime soon?" She shook her head. "Yeah, me neither. I want to see what'll happen, you know?" She did know; it almost happened to her several times. Death stared at her yet somehow she survived. It was something she no longer preferred. To go when asleep seemed like a blessing. If only she could close her eyes without seeing them.

"I cannot sleep. I see things." Bang. The family no longer made any noise. They held each other close and the children seemed to have fallen asleep. One of the men sounded like they were snoring. She could not understand how these men could fall asleep so fast. Perhaps at one point she did as well but not any more.

Guarnere nodded, understanding. "Yeah, there's plenty of things I wish I could forget." They were quiet, listening to the shelling, seemingly untouched at the moment.

Krista shifted. "What about the others?"

He knew who she was talking about. "They're surrounded, probably being shelled just like us."

"Who is there?"

"Well, there's Captain Winters and Nixon, Lipton, Toye, Babe, Liebgott, Roe… a lot of guys." She knew them; they were good men. They had been nice to her, especially Roe and Liebgott. Winters had let her come. How he must feel now. Keeping her in the back for safety and then this happens. Of course, it would not have been much better with him. They were surrounded, behind enemy lines. Could they even still be alive?

Guarnere seemed to read her thoughts. "Hey, they're going to be fine. After all, they're paratroopers." She actually smiled. They were a cocky bunch.

Krista glanced around the cellar once again, pausing on every person that was there. When her eyes landed on Guarnere once again, the cellar began to shake uncontrollably as a shell landed nearby. Rafters overhead gave way and the two were buried in dirt. The candles went out again. Anyone who had been asleep was certainly awake now. The family was screaming once again and the men were swearing, including Guarnere whose muffled voice could still be heard. They were not buried deep but it was enough to scare any occupant, thinking that they would be next.

The first thing she wanted to do was scream but when her mouth opened, it was stifled. She tried to cough but could not find any air. It was terrifying at first but soon the dirt cleared away and Luz's concerned face appeared. He was closest and had looked over in time to see the two disappear into darkness.

Coughing, Krista looked over to see Guarnere doing the same as he was helped out by Malarkey and Webster. She collapsed in Luz's lap, shaking and wheezing, trying to catch her breath.

"Never thought when I joined the paratrooper that getting buried alive was a way I might buy it." Guarnere laughed a little, throwing himself into a coughing fit. His voice had been unrecognizable. Krista did not bother talking.

"You had to say it, didn't you?" Malarkey asked.

"What?" Guarnere managed to say between coughs.

"That this place was going to collapse. You jinxed us." There was no reply.

Luz began to pick up Krista. "C'mon. Let's get you away from here."

For the rest of the night Krista sat next to Luz using his arm as a pillow. At one point it had gone numb but he said nothing. He thought she was asleep. It was dark though, for they had given up on lighting candles, so he could not be certain. In fact, she was awake, staring into the darkness for what seemed like forever, listening to the shelling, avoiding memories. For a moment, it felt as though sleep would come but the quiet would not allow it.

Quiet?

Krista sat up, surprised by the sudden lack of noise. Apparently the others noticed as well.

"You hear that?" Malarkey asked.

Guarnere coughed. "Hear what?"

"Exactly." Everyone was silent for a moment then shuffling could be heard as the men got up. They made their way to the stairs, which had been long forgotten, trying not to trip in the darkness along the way. A scraping noise could be heard as they pried open the door. Soon light burst into the room. Krista had almost forgotten what it looked like.

She watched the men step out of the cellar, rifles lifted, prepared to defend themselves. No shots were fired though. Weapons were lowered and mouths opened slightly, concern filled their eyes.

Krista did not get up out of curiosity; no she knew what would be above: complete destruction. She got up because the cellar was about ready to fall down on her. Dirt had fallen on her once; she did not need to be buried again when safety was in sight. Quickly she glanced back at the family. They stared at the light, slightly surprised that they had the opportunity to see it again. She motioned to the exit but they shook their heads, at least the parents did. The two small children appeared willing to leave their sanctuary right away but she knew the parents would wait until they were alone.

Blinking to adjust, Krista glanced at her surroundings. Several buildings were leveled; others no longer had roofs or a top level. Craters were everywhere as were broken bits of furniture and vehicles. In the distance was a smoldering truck. Perhaps it was the one she had been on.

The sight of Veghel was not the disturbing part for she had seen many destroyed cities; it was the silence, the lack of any sound after being bombarded by it. There were no birds, no wind, no voices. It was as though they were the only people still alive, like the town itself was dead.

"Never thought war could be so quiet." Webster spoke softly, almost unwilling to disturb the …peace, if that was what one could call it.

"Yeah, I don't like it. Let's try to find the others." Guarnere led the way into town with Luz and Malarkey in tow. Krista began to follow them but stopped when she noticed they were missing one.

Webster was looking at the house whose cellar they had been in. It was still in tact. The shells had come close but they had not touched it. She watched a smile grow on his face. One good memory out of the lot.

Picking their way through the rubble, the group tried to find others without much luck. There were a few that crawled out of half collapsed buildings but that was it. The others may have been inside still, if there were any.

After searching for a few minutes, they came upon the strangest sight. There was a tank in the middle of the road, still in one piece much to the amazement of everyone. But that was not the most surprising thing. Sitting around the metallic beast was none other than its crew, a handful of Englanders, enjoying a tea break. It stunned everyone. Here were these men in the midst of pure destruction which had taken place only a few hours ago, drinking and laughing as though nothing had happened. No matter how much combat one had seen, one could never get used to it. It was somewhat disappointing that they reacted like this.

"Can you believe these Limeys?" Guarnere asked, motioning to the group, loud enough so they could hear it. "Can't go anywhere without their precious tea." He put an annoying emphasis on 'precious' which received a scowl from the Englanders but nothing more.

The group took a seat in the middle of the road, seeing as how being run over was highly unlikely, and surveyed the area. Over time they watched soldiers slowly come out of their hiding places once they were sure the quiet was permanent or at least long lasting. Many looked beat down, exhausted. Some kissed the ground or blessed the sky while a few staggered out of their shelters having found some wine to drown their fears.

After a few minutes of witnessing the city's 'rebirth,' the men finally found someone they recognized.

"Easy!" shouted a voice. Everyone looked over to see the big-toothed grin of a paratrooper, apparently from the same company.

"Holy shit, it's Hoobler." Luz said, a genuine look of surprise on his face.

Guarnere smiled. "Never thought I'd say this but I was starting to miss those ears." Comfortable laughter returned once again.

'Hoobler's' smile did not fade. "It feels nice to be appreciated."

"What you been up to?"

"Found myself in the basement of a lovely cottage with a petrified Dutch girl clinging onto me for safety." 'Hoobler' paused a moment, remembering. "God bless the Dutch." Krista watched smiles grow on her companion's faces. It was nice to see them, if only because of a different story.

"Well, that's great for you, Hoob." Guarnere replied looking over at Krista. "But while you was having fun, we got buried."

"And when you say 'we?'"

"I mean me and Krista. Dirt up to our ears."

'Hoobler' nodded, amused. "I guess we can't all be lucky."

Other men began to arrive and more conversations ensued. Krista did not pay them any attention. She never understood any of it, not the words but the stories. Trying to understand would result in a headache that she really did not need right now. Instead, she just watched the ever changing scenery around her, watched the other soldiers reunite with friends they thought were long gone. It made her wish that someone she knew would walk out seemingly coming back from the dead. Pierre, of course, was the first person to come to mind. Oh, what a lovely surprise that would be. First, she would hit him for pulling such a cruel trick on her, and then she would hug him and start crying. He would try to kiss her and she would hit him again. The men would need some explanations which they would get. Perhaps she could convince them to let Pierre tag along, pretending he was her official protector.

Stop. Krista closed her eyes in order to release herself from a dream that would never come true. Quickly she looked around to make sure no one noticed a change in her. She had to stop thinking about him. He was not coming back; he never would. She had to move on. How could she though? Two years with the man and she was just supposed to forget him like he was just some random stranger she bumped into? How could Pierre do it? Maybe he did not, maybe he bottled it up inside like she was trying to do now. Maybe that was why he joked around all the time. He was trying to convince her that he was alright inside. Maybe he was trying to convince himself.

A humming noise distracted Krista from the debate inside her head. She looked up to see a vehicle heading their way at a reckless speed. It was not going to hit anyone but that did not stop some soldiers from moving away in a hurry. Even before the brakes had taken full affect, a man with a bird symbol on his helmet jumped out and began yelling at all nearby.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? The Germans are still out there! I want a perimeter set up now! Shoot anything that moves!" He repeated this and other words throughout the city marching down every street, pulling anything alive out from the buildings. Then he spotted the tank. Though in a rush, when the Americans saw the look on his face, they could not help but smile. Guarnere moved over to Krista.

"The Limeys are in for it now." He whispered. She looked over at him, seeing the giant grin plastered on his face. In for what?

From behind, the man's voice erupted, louder than before, with the worst kind of profanity imaginable, things that Krista dared not repeat or even ask about. She knew her assumptions were correct according to the widened smiles on the men's faces. Webster though, if anything looked embarrassed. He shook his head in shame and stared at the ground, clearly not a fan of the language.

The tank left and was never out in the open again.

The group stood up and began to leave, following the direction of Guarnere.

"Who was that?" Krista asked Luz as they moved along.

"Colonel Sink, Regimental Commander. Disobey him and you're a dead man…woman…you know what I mean." He walked up to Guarnere. "So, uh, Bill. You gonna be sharing the foxhole with Krista?" Guarnere responded so fast, Luz did not get the opportunity to smile.

"She ain't going in a foxhole. We're putting her in a basement somewhere."

"Well, shouldn't that be her decision?" Malarkey asked hoping it would stir some kind of argument from Krista. It did.

Krista stopped. "I want to stay with you."

Guarnere turned around, not in the mood for another one. "Look, it's dangerous and, trust me when I say this, if these weren't orders I guarantee we wouldn't be out here either. 'Sides, we can't do our job if we're worrying about you." The others nodded in agreement. Krista sighed and nodded. She followed the men, just barely keeping up, lost in thought. Why did they have to worry about her? She could take care of herself. Yes, they may have found her in a closet but she did not have her guard up that day. Neither did Pierre. No one would catch her like that again. But that was not the part that bothered her as much.

Did it not matter that she worried about them?

* * *

Night brought the shells back. Every time one hit she prayed again, not for the building to stay standing though it was threatening to collapse as the other had. No, she prayed that none of those shells landed on the men. She found herself unable to sit except when the shaking of a shell knocked her down. Waiting to find out whether those you know are dead or not, it was excruciating. She did not want to walk around in the morning and never find them or worse, find their bodies piled among others. She shuddered at the thought.

Another blast knocked her down and there she stayed, too tired to stand anymore. How long had it been, four days? Four days of barely any sleep. How much longer could she keep this up?

The way she sat pushed the pistol close to her. It taunted her, begged her to shoot it, just to feel the power it gave people. She had never wanted to touch one or anything that took life; she still wanted to believe that there was no blood on her hands. If only that were true. She may have not pulled the trigger but she had certainly pushed someone in front of the gun…more than once. It had been required of her and she did it without hesitation, something one could not have in war. Hesitation equals death. This just meant that she had more thoughts after it ended.

Another blast. It sounded so familiar.

* * *

**May 1943**

**Chartres, France**

Krista bit hard into the sandwich, still scowling from what Pierre had said to her.

'_Try to look sexy, wear something that accentuates your parts. Flirt with the men but do not act too trampy. You know how to do that, right?'_ His lack of concern over what she thought about it was upsetting but expected. It was at this point that she got to try out a few new words she had learned from the dictionary. Apparently they had hit their mark for he did not speak after that.

Out of the corner of her eye, something shined. They were here.

Krista quickly wiped the scowl off her face so as not to attract any unwanted attention. She took another bite from her sandwich and pretended to be interested in some article in the paper. Too bad it all looked like gibberish to her.

Two men exited the vehicle. One was a decorated officer, the other a rather shady character, probably Gestapo. No one told her anything about them. The less she knew the better, the easier it was. They sat down at an outside table like she had, enjoying the beautiful afternoon.

She put the paper down, focusing on her sandwich. The more she tried to look like she understood what the paper said, the more confused she got. Her look was not going to convince anyone anytime soon.

'_Look at them. Be sure they catch you.'_

Pierre's voice echoed through her head. He acted as though she knew nothing of flirting. Maybe he was reassuring himself of the plan. Either way, the French were becoming very annoying.

Krista looked over at the table. The Gestapo man was facing her. At least he was not too hard to look at. Pierre would have been dead if she had to flirt with a couple old guys like last time. She observed every move the man made, trying hard to hear the conversation but it was useless. They knew better than to raise their voices in public. It was probably something unimportant anyway. Speaking of classified plans was not typically something they would do outside closed doors.

The man looked over at her. She gave a feeble smile and turned away. Not exactly what she wanted but she had not been expecting such a cold look on the man's face. It sent chills down her spine. When she glanced back though, his look had softened a little. It was working.

She took a deep breath and stood up; heading for the bar inside, looking back quickly to convince the man that she was still 'interested.' More chills.

Krista sat down at the bar, calming her nerves, and looked up at its tender. It was not Pierre but Maurice, another resistance man she had met about a week ago. He had just come from a job in Paris and was looking for some place to hide for a while. After this job, though, he would have to be on the move again.

"_You were not out there long."_ He observed pouring a glass of some rather expensive wine.

Krista sighed. _"If you saw the look on that man's face, you wouldn't have stayed out there long either."_

Maurice placed the glass on a tray, smiling. _"Well, unfortunately, I have, much closer too. But not for much longer."_ Krista watched him as he balanced the glass so easily, something that she could have never done, that was why he was the waiter. He looked so much like Pierre, maybe they were related though Maurice's maturity far surpassed anything that Pierre could ever muster up. _"Suggest you go in back."_ She did as told while Maurice headed out to the guests. Cutting through the kitchen, Krista found the little back room and waited. It was dangerous but she was not going to leave without him, going against everything that Pierre had said.

Outside, the two men watched the waiter approach with the wine. Maurice placed it in front of the Gestapo man. _"Compliments of the lady in the bar."_ He then looked at the officer. _"And, sir, there is a phone call for you inside."_ With that, Maurice took off. The men paid no attention to how fast he went.

The man smiled, taking a drink. _"And they say we had no good reason for taking France."_ The officer did not return it.

"_Well, that is good for you. I have to listen to how my men messed up again. I am starting to prefer Russia."_ The officer stood as did the other man. "_Come, I wish to observe your seducing skills."_ The two laughed at that and headed into the bar, only to find it empty.

Maurice ran into the little room, expecting to find it unoccupied. _"Why are you still here? Never mind."_ He threw open a hatch in the floor and followed Krista down. Inside, there was a tunnel that led to the next building over. Krista began to crawl down it.

Maurice shut the hatch. _"Go! Move!"_ About halfway through, an explosion rang through, causing dirt to pile on the two. Maurice covered her up until it was over then pushed her along. They exited in the next building and dusted each other off so as not to look suspicious. Then Maurice calmly grabbed Krista by the hand and led her out of the building.

"_Act surprised."_ He whispered in her ear as they surveyed the damage to the bar. Krista did not need to act as they passed it by. Fire ripped through the building at an amazing speed and debris littered the area. She could still see where she once sat; it was nothing but a charred wreck. No one could have survived.

There were already several spectators looking on with concern while others had smiles on their faces for they knew what happened. Sirens were beginning to close in. Maurice swore. _"I did not think they would respond so fast. They must have been in the area."_

Two vehicles approached and German officers hopped out, blocking their exit. They must have been security for the two men who no longer existed. Maurice quickly turned around and looked at the building, thinking. Krista watched it with a horrified expression, fake or not, she was not sure anymore.

"_Faint."_ She heard him mumble. Not questioning what she heard, Krista fell limp in Maurice's arms. He picked her up and, without hesitation, began to head back toward the vehicles. Krista understood. The men would stop them but he had an excuse to leave now.

"_Halt!"_ shouted someone. Maurice did not stop, acting as though he did not understand. It was not until the men grabbed him that he did. They began to question why he was leaving; he just began to ramble in French. Krista tried to keep her eyes shut and stay limp. If this did not work, it was over for her. Oh, how she wished to run right now but that would only kill her sooner.

The Germans must not have had a translator for the just pushed them out of the way and continued for the building. Maurice ran as fast as he could for the nearest alley.

* * *

The shell sounded the same as that explosion. It had been the first time that she realized she had taken life. She had not rigged the bomb but she led the man inside. If he had not come in, chances were he would still be alive today. There was blood on her hands. She could not deny it any longer.

* * *

They had raced through the streets of Chartres until they found the cathedral. It was the meeting place Pierre had chosen. They calmly sat next to him inside. No one had noticed; there were not many people there.

Pierre acted as though he did not notice how close the two had gotten. He just stared at the ceiling, mumbling things under his breath. Maurice bowed his head in prayer while Krista looked around in amazement. She had never been in a cathedral before. All of the intricate carvings fascinated her. She was supposed to keep a low profile but she could not help but gape. It was not like anyone would call the police because of it. They would simply stare at her with disapproval.

It suddenly hit her how inappropriate it felt coming into a church after what she had just done. She felt the need to hide like everyone in the building knew what had happened. Maybe that was why Maurice had bowed his head. He was asking for forgiveness. It only seemed right that she do the same.

Krista bowed her head and folded her hands. Her father had not been too keen on the idea of going to church, so they never went but every Easter and Christmas, her mother told the stories of the man who came to save the world. She had never believed them more than she did now. She was not sure how to pray, so she simply said she was sorry and that it was necessary, she hoped. She also asked that her father would be okay, that he was still alive. Krista stayed like that until she felt a hand on hers. It was time to go.

Pierre stood slowly with Krista in tow and left. They did not even glance back at Maurice. She never saw him again either.

"_So, how did it go?"_ He asked as they left.

"_It went fine considering you did not tell me that there would be Gestapo."_ Krista replied firmly while keeping her voice low. Hopefully the explosion was keeping everyone busy so they would not notice her lurking about the streets. That was what she did not get. She was still wanted but here she was in a city that was not exactly the smallest one she had ever been in, walking around in broad daylight like there was not a care in the world.

"_Well, if I told you, you might not have agreed to it."_

"_And why would I?"_ Krista asked._ "I am wanted in case you did not notice. What if he recognized me? I could have been caught!" _Pierre's expression did not change.

"_You were fine. Maurice had everything under control."_

"_What if he didn't? What if that bomb had gone off, which by the way seems a little over the top if you ask me."_

"_Well, then it's a good thing I didn't ask you. It was the only way we could be certain that they were dead."_

"_I doubt that. There must have been some other way that was a bit more…quiet. I mean, you woke up half of France with this crazy idea of yours, not to mention that innocent people could have been killed. It depended a little too much on perfection." _

Pierre stopped and gave her a hard stare. _"What gives you the right to question how I handle things? How long have you been at this, two months? I have been doing this for three years. Three years of uncontested Nazi occupation. It is time someone did something because the Allies are not coming anytime soon. This will hopefully keep them on their toes."_

"_Isn't that what you don't want? Three years? You should know better than that." _

"_If you know so much, how about you plan the next one then?"_

"_If you know so much, how come I am still here? I should be in England by now!"_

"_You-″_ Pierre stopped himself. His voice was getting too loud. He quickly pulled Krista into an alleyway so they could not be seen. _"You really don't know anything, do you? Do you think it's easy trying to get a boat to England? The Germans have the coastline so locked down that a body can't come floating through without them knowing. There are U-boats patrolling the channel not to mention planes constantly on bombing runs. There are a million ways you can get spotted."_

Krista put her hands on her hips. She was not going to be quieted so easily. _"If you had even been thinking about getting me out of here, you probably would have come up with a way by now. You still owe it to my father that-″_ She was cut off by Pierre's laughter.

"_Owe your father? For what? He neither succeeded in killing Hitler nor getting the Allies any closer to France. Your father has done nothing I can be thankful for. Hell, no one even knows what he did! You think they would have put that in the papers? The Germans know better than that. They covered it up. If anything, I owe him a beating."_ He had been ranting and did not notice he was going too far. Krista had had enough of him. Anything else that Pierre would have said was cut off when Krista slapped him. He touched his face and looked at her, a little surprised and, it seemed, a little hurt.

It was Krista's turn to have cold eyes. _"Don't forget who you are talking to."_ She began to storm away.

"_Where are you going?"_ He asked.

"_Away from you!"_

* * *

Krista noticed a new shadow in the basement. At first she almost mistook it for the candlelight flickering but this was moving in her direction. There were some Dutch people in the basement with her. They were much quieter than the others had been but that did not mean they weren't frozen in fear. It was not them moving.

She gripped the pistol. Whatever hatred she had for it now was gone. The men she knew would have said something before entering. Perhaps this was the enemy though invading while still shelling an area seemed idiotic but that thought did not cross her mind. If they were coming to get her, she would not go quietly.

The figure stepped closer and seemed unaware of her presence. She aimed for the chest knowing full well that the man had a helmet on. Hitting anywhere would take him by surprise and render his attack useless. Her breaths became shallow and her heart rate quickened. Everything began to move so slowly. All she could hear was his breathing and the slow scratch of the trigger falling back. The figure turned; now was her chance. One shot was all she needed. Just pull the trigger back a little more and…

She stopped. No, she could not do it. There was something that prevented her from going through with it. Enough lives had been taken, let them deal with it.

The figure, though, did not react like she thought they would. Their hands flew up into the universal sign for surrender.

"Don't shoot! I'm American!" Krista felt her jaw drop and she instantly lowered the pistol. She had almost shot him, one of the Allies, one of the people who had saved her life. A sickening feeling made its way to her stomach. The figure moved closer.

"Oh, it's you, that Krista girl, right?" She nodded not looking up at him, too ashamed. "Sorry to scare you, I was just looking for some food. You wouldn't happen to have any down here, would you?" Krista now looked up. She gave him a funny look. How could he be so calm after she nearly shot him?

"I'll take the awkward silence as a 'no' then." He sat there a moment, looking at her. "You know, maybe I should take that from you. Don't want any other accidents." Krista gave him the pistol, glad to be rid of it. She felt her hands shaking. "Whoa, this is German! I bet Hoobler would love to take a look at this beauty." Hoobler? That was a name she knew. Yes, one of the men that walked over to them.

Krista stood up. She did not care what the others thought. What they did not know would not hurt them. "I am coming with you."

The man looked at her. "You…you what? No, it's too dangerous out there."

"Any better than here?"

He looked around. "Good point, but no. Guarnere would have my neck if he knew that…" Krista gave him a hard stare. "Alright, fine."

The man ran fast across the open space as shells came down but Krista was able to keep up. She followed him to what appeared to be an apple orchard. Suddenly, he disappeared into a hole in the ground. Krista jumped into it and found herself in a little puddle of water. They had been so frantic to dig the foxhole that they went a little too deep.

'Hoobler' was at the other end, pointing his rifle at the apple orchard. "Hey Rice, what took you so long? Did you find any…" He turned to see Krista. "…thing?" He stared at her, wide-eyed.

'Rice' moved in front of Krista. "No, but I nearly got shot by her." 'Hoobler' finally blinked, not out of need but surprise. "With this." 'Rice' pulled her pistol out of his pocket. 'Hoobler' grabbed it.

"Nice, a Walther P38. Not as good as a Luger though."

'Rice' shook his head. "Face it, Hoob, you're never going to find one."

"Yeah, I will." More shells pounded the ground. They were so much louder than they were in the basement. It left Krista deaf for a moment as the sound continued to echo through her head. It shook everything around them. She could have sworn a few apples rolled into the foxhole.

'Rice' took off his helmet. "Here, I think you need this." Before Krista could grab it, though, 'Hoobler' took it from 'Rice's' hands and put it back on his head.

"She's taking my helmet."

"Why?"

"You replacements keep dying on us. The last thing I need is you getting a concussion on my watch." 'Hoobler' took his own helmet off and placed it on Krista's head. "It's a little big but better that nothing." Krista pushed the helmet up so she could see and smiled at him.

An idea hit 'Hoobler.' "Hey, I don't think we've be properly introduced. I'm Don Hoobler. The little guy over there is Farris Rice." Now Krista looked at him as though he were crazy.

"Now?"

"If not now then in the afterlife."

"That is not funny."

"I'm not laughing." The comment sent some chills down her spine. These shells were hitting everywhere; they were bound to land on them at some point in time. It could happen at any moment and she doubted that they would hear the one intended for them coming.

Hoobler looked over to his right. "Hey Webster!" he shouted into the darkness. There was no response for a few moments.

"What?" It was him! He was still alive! Krista moved closer to the edge.

"Guess who I've got over here!"

"Hell, I don't know!"

"Krista!" There was a pause. In the distance, she could see a head pop out of another foxhole.

"Krista?!"

"Yeah, you know that brunette you're always hanging around with!" More shells began to pound the ground. Everyone in the foxhole ducked down, especially Hoobler seeing as how he no longer had a helmet. It became quiet again. They heard footsteps heading in their direction. Before Hoobler or Rice could get their rifles up, the figure slid into foxhole, uncomfortably close to Krista.

"Jesus, Webster, I could have shot you!" Hoobler hissed.

"You would have missed." Webster said looking around. "I had to see if you were telling the truth."

"She's right there, are you happy?" He looked at her.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Good, now get back to your own foxhole. There's barely enough room in here as it is."

"Give me a minute to catch my breath." More shells could be heard. Everyone ducked down again as one landed close. The ground shook horribly causing all the men to swear. There was a cracking sound nearby followed by a crash. Something landed on the foxhole. Everyone looked up to see that they were now under an apple tree.

"There's your food, Hoobler." Rice said, amused and a little relieved. The tree made for great cover.

"I'm sick of apples." It was quiet again. "Alright Webster, you can leave now."

Webster shook his head but began to climb out of the foxhole, the branches catching him a little bit. He ran into the darkness leaving Krista to wonder if he got back okay. She stared in the direction of the foxhole looking for a sign. Hoobler noticed this.

"Hey Webster, you alive?!"

"I think so!"Was the reply.

Hoobler looked at Krista and smiled. "Satisfied?" He could not see her blushing but he knew. More shells landed and the three ducked again, this time to be pelted by apples.

* * *

Sorry, I don't think I can capture Colonel Sink very well, or Hoobler for that matter. I'm going to try to get another chapter up before I go on vacation but I can't guarantee anything.

Lots of lines. My apologies.


	8. Getting Closer

* * *

Happy V-J Day plus four!

Thank you to all who reviewed and, if it's not too much, please please please continue. Your reviews keep me going. That and chocolate pudding. Of course, I haven't had that in a while. Suggestions and critiques are most welcome. I'm not a great writer but I'm trying really hard and what you have to say will help!

This chapter has a bunch of random bits in it and the end might be a little corny but I'll leave the final decision to you.

Oh, and congrats to Michael Phelps on his 8 Olympic Gold Medals. Thank you for this opportunity to witness history.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Getting Closer**

**September 1944**

**Veghel, Holland**

The men tried to fall asleep, Krista did not, could not. The shelling was so much louder outside every time she closed her eyes another one would hit, startling her up for another few minutes. Krista eventually gave up, cursing at the fact that the one time she believed she could sleep without the memories, something had to keep her from it. Fate hated her; she had to accept that fact.

A fog began to roll in as daylight approached bringing the silence with it. Watching it was like a scene from some horror movie, sending chills up her spine. It consumed their foxhole, cutting them off from the outside world. If fate truly hated her it would have sent the enemy on top of them. Perhaps it liked to toy with her. It would kill her when she least expected it.

Krista sighed. Lingering on thoughts of death would ensure hers would come sooner. She had to think of other things, something happy. Of course, from her position, what was happy? She was in the middle of a war zone with the enemy so close one could smell them, inside a foxhole that was freezing cold and had a puddle of water in it. The shelling had only just stopped and she was not sure if anyone she knew survived save the two men in front of her. This made her look at them. They were asleep side by side, a little close for the comfort of either of them. She tried to imagine the looks on their faces when they awoke. Entertaining was an understatement, she had to stifle her laughter so they did not wake up yet, might as well let someone get sleep.

She had found the happiness needed to distract her from the thought of death. Brief, though it was, it got her attention on something else. Were the others okay? Had they survived the night as untouched as she had? She did not even know where they were except for Webster who could not have been more than a few yards from them.

After taking off Hoobler's helmet, Krista crawled out of the tree and looked around. The fog was rather low to the ground so she could see the surrounding buildings. Of course, the most important thing to see was the ground. She could not tell where any of the foxholes were. If she was not careful, she could fall right into one which would lead to another embarrassing moment for her. Hopefully it would not result with another introduction. Half of the men she knew were based on some awkward meeting. That was the last thing she wished to remember them by.

Krista decided to make her way to the nearest building. Perhaps she could see some men walking around the nearby street.

Moving slowly, testing the ground before her, Krista finally ended up at the wall of a church. Bits and pieces of its roof were strewn over the field. They had gotten lucky for none of it fell on their foxhole. She followed the wall until it gave way to an open area with the road just in sight. She could see no one nor could she hear them. The city had fallen quiet as it had the other day. Once again, it was dead. She prayed that was not the same fate of its occupants.

Something moved out of the corner of her eye. In the distance, a figure sauntered through the fog, weapon raised. For a moment, Krista thought it was the enemy combing through the city until they recognized her.

"Krista?" asked a voice with, what she had come to know as, a Philly accent. The figure came closer until they dropped, disappearing into the fog.

"Bill!" Without thinking about what could be hidden under the fog, Krista ran to where she saw Guarnere fall. Slowing down so she would not do the same, Krista finally found where the earth gave way. She kneeled down and looked inside the foxhole. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I had a soft landing."

"That's because you landed on me," stated another voice that Krista identified as Luz. "Watch where you're going next time."

"I would except I can't see the ground." Guarnere stood up, looking at Krista. "Now, what are you doing out here? I thought we put you in a basement."

"Correction, _you_ put her in a basement."

"Shut up, George." Krista could not help but smile. Although it had only been a few hours since they had seen each other last, it had felt like forever and she had begun to miss their antics. Whether they did it on purpose or not, whenever the men were around something they did was bound to make her laugh. She had missed out on these opportunities over the past few years so she was not about to let these go to waste. "That is beside the point."

"Which is?" There was a loud _thwack_ followed by a few choice words.

Guarnere crossed his arms, satisfied but still angry with Krista. "Which is, what the hell are you doing out of cover? You could have been killed!"

Though sick of having to explain her actions, the smile refused to leave Krista's face. "I am not dead now."

"Yeah, I can see that but what if you were? We would not be able to forgive ourselves if-″

"What about me?" Krista shouted, interrupting him. "Waiting to find out if you were dead. That is not fair." Guarnere was silent for a moment, thinking about the point she made.

He sighed, giving up. "Alright…so where were you all night?"

"I was with…Hoobler." She could hear Luz chuckling down in the foxhole. "A tree fell on us."

"A tree fell on you." Guarnere nodded his voice strangely calm. "Yes, I had no reason to be concerned for your safety."

"Alright you two, take this little quarrel of yours somewhere else so I can get some shut eye." Luz said, stretching out as best as he could in the foxhole.

_Thwack. _

"You ain't supposed to be sleeping; you're supposed to be watching the line so watch it!" Guarnere turned back to meet the disapproving eyes of Krista. He merely shrugged as he climbed out of the foxhole.

"Where is Don?" Krista asked.

Confused once again by her use of a paratrooper's first name, Guarnere remained quiet. Luz, though, instantly knew who she was talking about.

"He's in that general direction." He replied, waving his hand to the right. "I can guarantee he's perfectly fine too."

Guarnere nodded. "Yeah, if the Krauts couldn't get him on D-Day, there's no way in hell they'll get him now." Once again, it was a reference to a story that she had no idea about. The men were fairly confident in their statements though so she took their word for it.

The sun rose in the sky, evaporating the fog so that the ground was once again visible. Krista now found herself following Guarnere around as he checked on other foxholes. Most of the men were okay surprisingly but every now and then the two would come across an image that words could not describe for neither wished to relive it again. In short, shelling was a destructive, and effective, way of eliminating one's enemy.

Breakfast, though Krista was not too hungry after what she had just seen, consisted of apples once again. There was other food, like British rations, but Guarnere told her to stick with the apples, the tendency of getting sick was far less. While meals were few and far between, she was getting rather sick of apples already. Was there no other fruit available?

As the morning wore on, Krista and Guarnere found themselves in an abandoned foxhole, at least, that was what they hoped. There was no evidence that a shell had landed anywhere nearby so they went with it. Guarnere calmly watched the line while Krista stared up at the sky, suddenly bored with their predicament. There was another foxhole not too far away containing two replacements from another company. She half-heartedly listened to their conversation.

"You think they're coming?" asked one. His voice was shaky from nerves.

"Who?" replied the other, voice calm but slightly irritated.

"What do you mean who? The Krauts, of course."

"Aw, hell, I dunno. Don't really care either."

"How can you not care? It's the enemy."

"So?" There was a pause. "Look, unless Olivia de Havilland comes walking out, I don't care."

"You'll care when they shoot at you."

"They couldn't hit us with 88s; you think bullets are going to scare me?"

"Well, I don't think they're coming."

"Why not?"

"I just…I just don't think they are."

"What are you, psychic?"

Krista turned her head away as they began to argue. It brought up a lot of questions but at this point, she did not care. There were so many things that she did not understand and not enough time to have them explained. She was sick of explanations anyway. It just made her feel dumb.

She continued to stare up at the sky, blinking as the sun reappeared from behind some clouds. It began to warm her body, a welcome feeling after spending the cold night outside. Her eyes began to slowly shut as sleep began to take over. After days of restless nights, she would finally…be able to…

Shouts of joy rose up from one of the buildings behind them, tearing Guarnere's focus from the line and Krista's from sleep. She opened her eyes and looked behind the foxhole, not caring too much about what happened. She just wanted the men to shut up. Guarnere, on the other hand, was curious. Not willing to leave her alone, he dragged her out of the foxhole with him. Krista tried to suppress a groan. Life was not fair.

Krista stumbled along, far behind Guarnere, not willing to catch up. Maybe if she fell behind enough, he would forget her, and then she could make her way back to the foxhole for some much needed sleep. Guarnere, much to her disappointment, was not going to lose her anytime soon. He found her leaning against a wall, trying hard not to collapse where she stood.

"Oh geez, I'm sorry. I didn't think you were that tired."

"I am…fine…wide awake." Krista not so convincingly stated between yawns. She looked at Guarnere trying to focus. "What happened?"

"Germans don't control the highway anymore. We're moving out. Gonna see what happened to our guys in Uden." The mentioning of the other city where so many people she knew were got her attention. Her concern began to wake her body up. Sleep could come later. There were more important things at hand.

"Do you still think…?" Looking down, she did not want to finish the sentence. The thought of what may have happened to the others killing any happiness that may have existed.

Guarnere read her thoughts once more. "Yeah, I do."

Krista looked up to meet his dark eyes again. They had not been this close since the day she was found and, although it had only been a week, she found that it was more awkward now. Still, they stared at each other for quite some time until the sound of someone approaching caught their attention. Guarnere backed off quickly, picking at his weapon then looking up at their visitor.

"What are you doing here, Malark?" Krista looked over at the Irishman, confirming that all the people she had stayed with were still alive. He had a smile on his face, indicating he had seen the two but did not say anything about it. Catching them off guard was satisfying enough.

"I wanted to see what all the commotion was about. I was kinda hoping that someone found a store of wine but I guess not."

"Well, how do you know that? You ain't even been over there yet."

"Because you wouldn't be here if they had." Krista smiled. When Guarnere looked over, she tried to wipe it off her face but was not fast enough. It was pointless anyway. The frown could not last.

"Thanks." He looked back at Malarkey. "Get your mortar team together; we're moving out."

The next couple hours were the most hectic ones that Krista had seen. When dodging shells, these men had more order. Guarnere and Martin, who they had finally run into after a long search, were trying to gather all the men from Easy Company, which meant they first had to sort through Dog and Fox companies. Then they had to go through all the weapons and ammo that had been abandoned when the shelling began. The road also had to be cleared of debris so the trucks could get through. All in all, it was a bunch of men shouting orders at the same time and never getting through to the people they wanted until they ran up to them and yanked them in the right direction.

Krista had been moved from one spot to another so that the men could keep an eye out for her. She felt like a small child that could not be left alone for a second and it was becoming tiresome. Moving from her last spot, she hopped onto one of the trucks and stayed there. If the men wanted to know where she was, they could come looking for her.

There was one man that stood out. He must have been an officer for Easy Company. Strange, she had never seen him before. She caught a name: Lieutenant Peacock. She could have laughed. Was a Peacock not a bird? It was not nice to make fun of a last name, after all the person had no control over it, but it was still funny. According to the looks that he received from the men when he gave an order, he was not well liked. He never noticed the looks either. She thought they were quite obvious but maybe he had other things on his mind.

"Hey Krista," called a voice from down below. "Krista!" She looked over the side of the truck to see Luz.

"Yes, George?"

"When we get moving, dibs on the seat next to you."

More words she did not understand. "What?"

"Dibs. It's like I'm reserving that seat."

Krista nodded. "Oh…Okay." Luz smiled and left to help clear up the debris. She was not sure what had just happened but no one was dead or hurt so it could not have been bad. There were more serious things that people had to worry about.

Within a few minutes of their talk, the men began loading onto the trucks, skeptical. Hoobler jumped on the truck talking to Rice and Guarnere.

"I'm telling you, five minutes and then we're turning around and coming right back here."

Guarnere shook his head. "These drivers will be there in five minutes. They ain't waiting for the tanks this time." He sat next to Krista listening to what Hoobler had to say in reply.

Krista tugged on his sleeve, gaining his attention. "You cannot sit here."

It was Guarnere's turn to be confused. "What? How come?"

"George said…dibs."

"That I did." Luz said as he climbed aboard.

Guarnere gave him an irritated look. "Luz, you sneaky bastard."

He smiled. "That I am."

"Well, I'm not leaving this seat. Take another one."

"She said I could have this one." Krista backed Luz up by nodding.

"Oh for…where am I supposed to sit?" While the two had been arguing, more men had boarded the truck taking up the rest of the seats. At this point, no one cared which truck the men sat in, as long as it was shared by the company so a few men from first platoon had mixed in including Martin who was sitting across from them watching with clear enjoyment.

"How 'bout on the floor?"

"The floor? Jesus Christ I-″ He looked over at Krista who was giving him a sort of puppy dog face. "Aw, hell." Guarnere got down on the bed of the truck and sat there, leaning against the cab. Luz triumphantly took his seat next to Krista.

"Luz, you are a sneaky _and_ lucky bastard."

"If it keeps me from sitting on the floor." Luz's smile could not have been wider.

The trucks soon took off and the men dove into separate conversations that she occasionally had a word in but, for the most part, she kept out of. Guarnere had been right when he said they would get there in five minutes. The drivers were going at a fast pace, borderline reckless. They would hit a bump and everyone would grab some part of the truck hanging on for dear life. At this point, Krista was swiftly becoming a hater of trucks.

Someone in the cab managed to yell out. They would be approaching Uden soon. All noise stopped as the passengers turned their attention toward the front. Everyone, even Guarnere, was expecting one image: devastation. After all, Uden had been surrounded, what German unit would not attack it? But as the city appeared on the horizon, many jaws began to drop. The city was seemingly unscathed, untouched by 88s, Stukas or the like. Many whistled, some cursed, a couple others had their faith cemented. Believe in God or not, one could not deny this miracle.

The drivers had to put on the brakes fast to ensure that no men on the ground were hit. Once again, the passengers found themselves clinging to a part of the truck. When they turned onto the main road in Uden, any jaws that had not yet dropped quickly fell into line with the others. There stood paratroopers, many of them, staring back at the passengers of the trucks with the same utterly surprised look. Apparently each group shared the same thoughts about the other.

Once the vehicles came to a halt, the celebrations began. Names were shouted, laughter ensued, and conversation was struck up throughout whether the men knew each other or not. Krista hopped off, smiling but not swept up in the confusion just yet. She kept an eye out for a familiar face, praying that the men she knew were still alive. It may have appeared the nothing happened in the town but a lack of holes in the ground and in the buildings did not mean a battle had not taken place. She knew all too well the truth of that.

"Hey Krista!" A feeling of relief flooded over her as she recognized the voice of Liebgott but also a feeling of acceptance. There was something in his voice that felt like a friend, not just someone concerned because of how he found her. It was a great feeling.

Krista turned around and met him, noticing relief filled his face as well. She could not help but embrace him which Liebgott did not mind for he felt the same way. They parted quick, but not awkwardly, and looked at each other, smiles bigger than ever.

"I thought you were dead." Krista said suddenly, regretting it slightly.

"Yeah, so did I." Liebgott replied not picking up on it. "Guess the Germans thought there were more of us here. We didn't see too much action."

"We did."

Liebgott nodded. "How was it?"

She paused a second, trying to think of any other words besides the one that had first popped in her head. There was no substitute.

"Hell."

* * *

Somehow, Krista found her way out of the crowd. Word had gotten to her that Roe was not there; he was tending to some injured men at the new aid station and she wanted to see him. For a while, she had not seen anyone she knew. After exchanging a few more words with Liebgott, he began talking to someone else. All of the men she had come in with were MIA; she had not seen a single one.

She found the building and once again stepped into the uncomfortable atmosphere of a front line aid station. There were not as many injured men but the feeling was eerie all the same.

Roe stepped out of a room, hands blood free this time, and stopped when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He smiled at his visitor who, like all the other occupants of Veghel, he never thought he would see again.

"So that's what all the commotion's about. It's good to see you're alright."

Krista smiled. "You too." They were silent, unsure of what to say. It was only their second conversation and this time it did not involve some kind of trauma. Normal conversations were apparently too good for her.

"Anyone hit?" Roe asked after a while.

"No…I do not think so…not from Easy." Krista winced for she knew that her pronunciation of 'Easy' was once again incorrect. Color already rushing to her cheeks, she waited for a laugh, a smile, anything to indicate that he had noticed. Roe did nothing; he simply nodded.

"You guys are the ones who get shelled and you end up with fewer casualties. It doesn't really seem possible."

"What happened?" Krista asked, trying to cover up her intense curiosity. Roe had to smile at that.

"Just some German patrols. They weren't much but enough to get a couple boys hurt. Nothing too serious…yet." He paused a moment, thinking. "We were preparing for what we might get after the Germans stopped attacking Veghel. One guy had nightmares about what he would see. Guess it wasn't too bad."

"Yes…" Krista's voice was distant as her mind drifted back to the images of what used to be men before the shells had come crashing down. "Not too bad." Another long silence began, interrupted when two men barged through the front door, one leaning on the other.

"Coming through." Krista moved out of the way so the man could set his injured comrade on the floor in front of Roe.

"What is it?" Roe asked, tending to the injured paratrooper.

"I think I broke my ankle." The man's face was twisted with pain; he had to force the words out.

Roe examined the ankle much to the horror of the paratrooper who bit down hard on his lower lip to keep from screaming, if only to impress the beautiful girl he had seen coming in or, at least, to embarrass himself less.

"Nah, it's just a sprain." He turned to the other man. "How'd this happen, Muck?"

In an all serious tone, 'Muck' replied. "That has been deemed classified."

"By who?" Roe asked, focusing his attention back on the ankle, not at all convinced.

"Lieutenant Welsh."

Roe sighed. "Were you looking for food or girls?" A strict tone of voice had taken over.

"I have no idea what you are talking about?" Though 'Muck' sounded serious still, he looked about ready to laugh.

"Alright, alcohol then."

"I can neither confirm nor deny your accusations."

"How many bottles?"

A grin burst through. "Ten."

"It was worth it too." The injured paratrooper added. Krista did not understand how alcohol was worth hurting oneself but, then again, she did not understand a lot of things that the Americans did. They were a strange group of people.

"Yeah, I'm sure it was." Roe stood up. "You're going to have to keep off it a couple days."

"Then can I join the guys again?"

"We'll see."

Krista turned to the still standing paratrooper. "You are Muck?"

He nodded. "Yes ma'am, Skip Muck." She did not bother asking about the first name he produced, there was a more pressing question on her mind.

"You made the pool?" The speed at which the smile on Muck's face disappeared almost seemed impossible. Behind her, Roe was laughing, something she had not heard yet. His job did not leave room for much laughter. It felt nice that she had given him this opportunity.

"I, uh…you know, Lieutenant Welsh wanted me back. We need to discuss the, uh, mission."

"Of course you do." Roe replied still laughing. Muck lowered his helmet toward Krista, smile slowly returning, and was off.

"Hey Doc, do you think he'll come back with a bottle for me?" The injured man asked.

"Don't count on it." Roe stood. "C'mon, let's get you to a bed." He helped the man stand and together they hobbled off to a back room. Krista watched them leave suddenly more thankful that things in Veghel had turned out better than what they could have been. This was his job but she was not sure how much he could take. Of course, there was always another battle bound for more casualties. He had to be tough; he was tough but at least today he got a break.

He returned soon after, not wanting Krista to feel abandoned like she may have the last time they spoke. Krista had turned her attention to the window, gazing out at the continuing celebration. She did not hear him come up.

"Pretty loud, aren't they?" He spoke softly in attempt to not scare her so much. Krista jumped slightly but it could have been worse. "They can hear them in Berlin." She got a quick shiver from the mention of the city. Her father had been born there.

She turned around and tried to smile. "Do you not want to join them?"

"Nah, if they want to see me, they know where I am." Krista nodded and moved to hug him. Roe was taken aback at first but soon returned the kind gesture.

"You sure like to hug, don't you?" He could feel her nodding.

"Everyone except Bill." More laughter. She enjoyed this.

Roe stepped back and looked at her. "Do you need somewhere to sleep?"

* * *

The rest of the day Krista stayed with Roe, helping him tend to some wounded men. She needed to feel like her presence had some form of contribution with it.

Now night had fallen once again. Krista half expected shelling to come but all remained silent. Still, she watched the night sky looking for a sign of anything. She leaned out the open window, knees on the cot that Roe had provided for her. The breeze was cool and comforting once again allowing her thoughts to drift.

Footsteps outside came her way. She paid them no attention, expecting them to pass by. They stopped though, near where she was. Even though she was on the first floor and could clearly be seen, she did not care; her mind was elsewhere.

"Can't get used to the quiet, huh?" Krista smiled recognizing Webster's voice.

"No."

"Me neither. Janovec and I dug our foxholes pretty deep. Other guys barely struck the dirt." Random conversations, something she should have been used to by now.

Krista turned to the dark figure on her right. "Why are you here?"

"I was taking what privileged people like to call a shower." He said pointing in the direction he had come from.

"What do you call it?"

"Salvation." She smiled more, gazing at the night sky once again, expectations of the past no longer present.

"You know…these are the most words we've ever spoken to each other." Webster said after a while. "We've seen each other plenty of times but we never talked. I said something in Veghel; you said something in Eindhoven. Neither of us replied back."

Krista thought about it. He was right. After all this time they had hardly spoken two sentences to each other, and not at the same time or day for that matter. How could she find herself liking someone so much with so little interaction? She got more from Muck already and she had just met him.

"Are you okay?" Webster asked distracting her from the thoughts.

"I am fine." She said quickly. "I was thinking."

"You do that a lot."

"I do a lot of things…" Her voice trailed off as she realized how ridiculous sounding the sentence was. "…a lot."

Webster laughed a little but quickly shut himself up as it occurred to him how embarrassing this had to be for her. It was too late though. The damage was done. Krista collapsed on the windowsill, head over folded arms, fed up with the way she spoke. Her points could never come across well because she always messed up. Sounding like a child, no one could ever take her seriously.

"It's okay. I understood that sentence. It made sense." Webster said trying to make her feel better as he stepped in front of the window.

"No, it did not." She mumbled without raising her head.

"Yes, it did."

"No, it did not." Krista raised her head, and her voice, but a smile was playing on her lips.

"I'm an English Major, I think I would know." During this 'argument' of theirs, laughter was beginning to break through. Krista wanted to keep things serious because what happened to her was upsetting but she found herself unable to keep a straight face. She was not sure how to reply to his last statement. Someone interrupted them before she had to though.

"Private Webster, come with me." It was that bird lieutenant…Peacock. He seemed to not notice the conversation; either that or he did not care.

Webster hesitated a moment looking at Krista, confusion clear.

"Now Private." Any evidence of a smile on Webster's face quickly vanished as a scowl set in. Apparently he was not a fan of this lieutenant either. He followed, for he was supposed to, but not willingly. Krista could only imagine what was going through his head right now.

They entered a building not too far away. Krista sat down on the cot and waited, expecting Webster to return soon. He could not have been in trouble; he had done nothing wrong. After what seemed like many minutes, he still had not returned. Curiosity about what was happening, and a slight paranoia that she had somehow caused this, drove her to follow them into the building. She hopped out of the window not caring how it looked. The door was a few rooms away, to go through it would attract unwanted attention.

Krista approached the door of the building and stood there for a bit, debating whether or not she should really do this. Shrugging her shoulders, she opened the door and stepped inside. The voices of various officers were the first to greet her, their conversations undisturbed by her arrival. They just assumed another officer had walked in. Some officers stood in a room to the right, in front of a nice fire. Others had gathered for a poker game, and others still were walking out of a kitchen with freshly made sandwiches, each ignoring the new arrival.

So this was the life of an officer. They were sitting inside in comfort while their men were in foxholes. Krista was not completely unaware of the split between the officers and enlisted, after all her father was a general, but it never ceased to amaze her. Men about to sacrifice their lives deserved better.

Gaping at the officers' quarters, Krista almost forgot about what she came for. She quickly moved to the stairs so as not to attract any attention. Webster must have been upstairs. A certain dark haired captain happened to turn in her direction before she left. He left the conversation to the other officers and followed her up.

Looking through various open doors, Krista found Webster near the end of the hallway. Under the watchful eye of Peacock, he was sweeping out the room. The scowl on Webster's face had deepened and was fully understandable. The look on her face was probably very much the same. It reminded her of something her father said once. 'The men are not our maids…that's what your mother's for.' Her mother had smacked him after that. He was only joking of course but only about the latter part. Her father had never done to enlisted men what Peacock was doing now nor would he tolerate it in his command.

In a fit of rage, Krista stormed into the room, yanking the broom out of Webster's hand and shoving it into Peacock's.

"Your arms are not bad! Do it yourself!" She had shouted what Webster could not, with worse grammar and less profanity, but it still got the point through.

Peacock, stunned speechless, just blinked until he saw another figure standing outside the door. He quickly moved to the position of attention, eying Webster to do the same. The figure waved it off though.

"What's going on here?" It was Nixon.

"I was instructing Private Webster here on cleaning the room. She burst in and gave the broom to me, saying that my arms weren't…bad, sir."

Nixon turned to Krista, no laughter but a twinkle in his eyes. He then turned back. "Well, you heard the lady. Sweep it yourself." Peacock's jaw would have dropped but he was either too proud or too stunned. The latter seemed more appropriate. Motioning to the other two, Nixon turned to leave. Krista followed quickly while Webster lagged behind. The last few minutes required a bit of thought.

"Are you mad?" Krista asked. Nixon had not looked it but that meant nothing. Experience had taught her that.

"Why would I be mad? That was the highlight of the war." Nixon turned to her, smile wider than ever, no lie in sight.

She only smiled a little. "I cannot stay?"

"What, stay here? Well, you can. I'm sure it would make plenty of guys happy. No one wants to see you go."

"I meant with Easy."

"That's what I meant." Now Krista looked confused. "Look, we caught a lucky break but if those Germans had attacked, everyone would have preferred that you were in Veghel. It's not your fault what happened and you didn't get hurt. Heck, those shells didn't get any Easy Company guys. You're our lucky charm. Of course you can stay." Her smile grew more. She hugged Nixon who, unlike his friend, did not blush. He rather enjoyed it.

"Thank you." She had never considered herself lucky after all she had been through so what the captain said really got to her.

"No problem."

* * *

Walking back across the street, Krista and Webster were silent, each having their own thoughts to mull over. Nothing terrible, but enough to distract them from each other.

Webster broke the silence. "Why did you come?"

"To see if you were okay…I thought it was… my fault."

"No, it wasn't. Lieutenant Peacock was just being…well, Lieutenant Peacock. Let's just say no one can think of him without a few choice words coming to mind." Krista smiled, hopping through the window once more. Thunder boomed overhead and the sky threatened to rain.

She poked her head out again. "Do you want to come inside?"

"No, I think I should get back to my foxhole." He looked up at the sky in time for the downpour; he ran to the side of the building quickly. "Then again, a roof would be nice." Krista laughed a little as the wet paratrooper made his way in through the window. It was not the most graceful thing and soon Webster found himself sprawled out on the floor after tripping over something. Krista sat cross-legged on the cot waiting for him to get up, laughter now uncontrollable.

Webster stood, slightly red from his 'diving' act, and placed his helmet and other gear on the ground. "I appreciate the help." Krista said nothing, hand covering her mouth to stop the laughing. She was not having much luck at it either.

The wind outside picked up, blowing rain into the room. Webster and Krista quickly moved to the window, which had the rather inconvenient design of opening out instead of in. When the window was finally shut, both of them were basically drenched from the chest up. They sat down on the cot, took one look at each other and began to laugh, quieting down quickly though for they were not the only ones in the building.

Krista absently put her head on his shoulder, shaking a little from the laughter still. Webster did not seem to mind. They sat like that a while, quiet and lost in their thoughts.

Relaxing, Krista realized how tired she actually was. Her eyelids began to grow heavy but she did not want to fall asleep, not now. She yawned, covering it up so Webster would not notice.

"You are a…Major?"

"English Major. It's what I'm going to college for." Krista nodded, understanding. Her eyes were closed now. She did not have the strength to keep them open.

"Where?"

"Harvard." Krista tried to nod but did not have the strength for that either. She felt his head turn to look at her, not caring. No dreams would haunt her tonight. By the time Webster turned his head back, she was fast asleep.

* * *

**July 1943**

**Vierville, France**

Krista sat on a couch inside the little cottage she and Pierre had moved into about two weeks prior, studying the German-English dictionary. She had come quite a ways since beginning the new language; she liked to say it was because she was a fast learner, Pierre said it was because English was a Germanic language and that all the words sounded alike. Whatever it was, Krista was catching on fast.

The front door opened and in stepped Pierre. He limped into the cottage and slammed the door shut, causing some items on shelves to shake. Krista did not look at him.

"_How did it go?"_ she asked.

"English, Krista." Pierre replied sounding beat. She mistook it for annoyance.

"How…was it?"

"_Well, we ran into a few German officers and invited them down for tea. Lovely gentlemen, I must say. Too bad they could not stay very long. I suppose they had other plans."_ He liked to torture her by speaking German.

"Jerk."

"_I see we are learning new words." _He tried to sit down without hinting to how much pain he was in but was unsuccessful in that attempt. A few swear words managed to escape. It was now that Krista looked over. She stood up quickly, throwing the book across the room as she headed to the kitchen.

"_What did you do!?" _Krista asked as she began to check on the cut on his forehead which was bleeding all over.

"English."

"_Would you forget the English for ten seconds? Besides, I believe it is obvious that I won't be getting to England anytime soon so there is no point!"_

"_Does not matter, you need to learn." _Krista purposely flicked the cut on his forehead. Pierre swore in pain and grabbed it.

"_Need I press my point any further?"_ Pierre shook his head slowly so he would not get too dizzy. The room already felt like it was spinning. Krista continued to work on his head, grabbing a nearby towel to stop the bleeding.

"_What did you do?"_ She asked again.

"_Why do you always think it is my fault?"_

"_Because it always is your fault."_

Pierre sighed. _"Fair enough."_ He paused. _"We did run into a few German officers. They put up more of a fight than we thought they would."_

"_How many Resistance men?"_

"_Two." _

Krista sighed as well. _"Two men dead, last week it was three, last month it was six. You are becoming far too reckless…and what am I supposed to do when the next dead man turns out to be you?"_

"_I can guarantee it won't be me."_

"_You guaranteed that I'd be in England by now and I don't see that."_

"_Would you quit bringing that up!"_ Flick. Swear. This was going to become a routine. _"Just trust me; I am not going to die!"_

"_Why should I?"_

"_Because I am not doing this anymore."_ Krista stopped working on his cut.

"_What?"_

"_The Resistance. I quit."_

"_Can you do that?"_

"_This is not the Mafia, Krista, I can quit if I want to. All I have to do is not show up."_

She stepped back and looked at him, wondering if that cut was not the only thing that happened to his head. He looked sane, or at least as sane as he usually was. _"Why would you do that?"_

"_Like you said, what's going to happen to you if I die? I don't trust anyone else."_

Krista mistook his sincerity for something else. _"Well, please don't take your feelings for me into account."_ She was being sarcastic. He knew it but that did not matter.

"_Too late for that." _Krista said nothing in response; she just stared at Pierre, eyes full of disbelief at what she was hearing. Could he? No, that was stupid. He was just playing tricks like he usually did. But he did sound rather convincing. No, his acting had just improved. There was no possible way that there was any truth to what he just said.

She shook it off and grabbed his arm. _"C'mon, let's get you to bed."_

"_Did you not hear what I just said?"_

"_Of course I did."_ Krista said as she pulled Pierre up. He groaned in pain. _"You hit your head on something. Perhaps there is a German as hard headed as you are."_

"_I did not hit my head on anything."_

"_Then explain that cut on it."_

"_Krista, please be serious about this."_ She sighed, wishing to get to the room faster. Pierre was moving slow, either because he was hurt or because he was doing it on purpose. She would not put that past him at this point. Krista picked up the pace much to his disappointment and finally got to the room, helping him onto the bed.

She grabbed the towel. _"Now let me tie this around your head. Being the genius you are you forbade me from getting any medical supplies. Too obvious. Did you ever consider a bloodied up man walking through the streets as obvious?"_

"_Please listen to me."_

Krista began to wrap the towel around. _"Hold still."_ She was doing anything to avoid the direction this conversation was heading.

"_Krista, I-″_

"_That means no talking."_

"_Krista, I love you."_ She stopped tying it around his head and let go of the breath that she did not even know she was holding. Letting the towel slip down, she looked Pierre straight in the eye, praying for a lie. There was not one in sight and he never had attained a good poker face.

"_Why?"_

"_What?"_

"_Why? Why do you love me? After everything I have put you through, why would you even think about uttering those three words?"_

"_Why, after everything I have put you through, would you be concerned about my well being?"_ Krista felt her shoulders drop. She hated when he had a point.

"_Because…because I don't want to see the man I have been with for a year suddenly die on me. Now hold still so I can tie this off."_ Krista began to tighten the towel once again hoping to end whatever it was that was happening. Once it was tight, she looked down and discovered how close she actually was to him.

Pierre pulled his face close to hers, to the point where they were nearly touching. He looked at her, as though asking permission to get closer. She did not react, so he did. As soon as his lips brushed upon hers, Krista pulled back, quick and quiet. Instantly on her feet, she began to walk out, stopping in the doorway.

"_I'm sorry."_ She heard him whisper. Krista closed her eyes, holding back something, though she did not know what it was.

"_Perhaps you should find someone to trust. I don't think I can stay with you anymore."_ Her voice was serious and slightly cold. The sound of it disturbed her. It stabbed him and she knew it.

Closing his door, Krista walked to the front one and left the cottage. She had to be alone. No, she had to be away from him.

* * *

And that, my friends, concludes chapter eight. Alas, I must depart soon. I am going to visit Northern Michigan University. Wish me luck on the application!


	9. On the Move Again

School has officially started and I am stuck with Physics, Pre-Calculus and Political Science so my updates are going to take a bit longer than they usually do. Hey, I'm taking German now! Very fun class. Ich heiße Ashley. Wie heißt du? I am so proud of myself.

If anyone is enjoying the New Kids on the Block CD as much as I am, please tell me. It's my new obsession. Looking at Lipton will DEFINITELY be strange.

**NOTE: **This chapter is more or less a filler chapter. It's getting the setting prepared for the next few chapters which shall be action packed. I promise you will not be disappointed with what is to come!

And thanks to all who reviewed! I am in your debt.

Enjoy the story!

* * *

**Chapter Nine: On the Move…Again**

**October 1944**

**Uden, Holland**

Of all the people to discover them, it had to be Guarnere. Finding himself in the aid station for a reason he did not know, Guarnere wandered around until he stumbled upon the room they were sleeping in. It came as a surprise but at the same time, he should have seen it coming. This was Webster. He got to carry her and hug her first; of course he gets to sleep with her first. A smile came to his face after that thought.

He watched the two for a few moments, them being so out of it that they never noticed him enter. Krista had her head on Webster's shoulder who, in turn, leaned his head on hers. It was so peaceful looking that he almost did not want to disturb them. Then again, he would not be Bill Guarnere if he left them. Seeing as how Krista was involved with this, Guarnere decided to have nothing elaborate. So, slamming the door hard and waiting for their terrified reactions would have to suffice.

Upon hearing the loud 'bang' of the door, Webster, who sat near the edge of the cot, immediately fell to the ground, cussing all the way. Krista bolted upright, nearly shouting in German but caught herself in time. She did not need to look at the perpetrator, the laughter was enough. Reaching for Webster's helmet, Krista chucked it as hard as she could in his direction. She threw it a little funny and it hit him in the foot. That was good enough for her because he winced in pain. Mumbling apologies and profanities, Guarnere left the two alone again.

Krista sighed looking after the sergeant; he was going to be complaining again. She looked over at Webster, who was still on the floor, and smiled.

He returned it. "I guess I should go. I was supposed to be out on the line all night." Webster stood, stretched out and collected his gear, including the helmet by the door. He stopped and looked at it. "Just don't want to meet Guarnere out there." Krista looked at him and shrugged, motioning her head toward the window.

Webster's smile grew. "I guess there is that."

Standing on the cot, Webster took a long, hard look in either direction before jumping out the window to head back to the line. He would face some ridicule, and many curious questions, but did not care. He would do it again for a lot worse.

Over the next few days, Krista did not see Webster much. In fact, the only person she saw a lot of was Roe. She continued to help him at the aid station, learning the basics of medichood. By the end of the week, Krista knew bandages like the back of her hand, could do a fairly decent tourniquet, and had a basic understanding of the terminology, which to her was like learning a new language.

Easy Company went through a few battles during this time, sending plenty of casualties their way. Most men she did not know, though some looked familiar, and every time an unknown face came in, she breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing she needed was to lose someone, not now, not ever but that was too much to hope for. This was war; someone was going to die.

One day Krista sat alone in a room, washing her hands of blood. Burn victims had come in, British tank crewmen. It was a disturbing sight, up there with what she had seen after the shelling, but she held it together, at least until she had found a backroom.

Hands shaking, Krista looked at the mirror nearby. Gone were the bruises that once littered her face but something else had set in. It was small, hardly noticeable but it was there. She could not tell what it was though.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched Roe walk through the hallway. He had a sort of blank look on his face, emotion worn out. Maybe that was how her face looked half the time.

She began to think about all that had happened. Days of injured men, so many faces she never knew. They were in and out, or dead, before she caught names or even a vague memory of them. Perhaps that was best but, she could not help herself. She hated not knowing people and she knew that it would be her downfall.

There were no nightmares. Every night she passed out, beaten down from the day's events. Sleep did not last long enough and soon she was up again, back to work.

Pierre. There was a new thought. It did not torture her as much nor did it occupy her mind. This was how one forgot, how they moved on. They did not force themselves to, it just happened. More devastating memories poured in, pushing out older ones. How could these memories go away if the only way to drive them out was to witness something worse?

Screaming burst into the aid station, sending Krista flying out of the room. More memoires were coming, pushing the others further and further back. What she would not give for them to stop.

* * *

Two days later, Krista found herself sitting next to Roe, half asleep, in the back of another truck. They were moving out again; the men referred to it as retreating. Apparently the German forces were a little overwhelming. The reason they were here, called MARKET-GARDEN, was a failure. She did not think it was a _complete_ failure, after all they had found her but few would share this look on it. Too many friends were lost.

Roe appeared to be out cold, his head leaning forward. Krista wished she could do that but it was doubtful. Someone she knew was bound to sit next to her, striking up a conversation. Sleep was something she wanted, and needed, but she would survive. In the past few days she had gotten more sleep than she had the week before so it would be okay.

The bed of the truck began to sway. Krista looked over at the new passengers. Some she did not know, others, like Liebgott, got a warm smile mustered up with all the strength she had. One person she did not really expect to see was Guarnere, then again he was a very unpredictable person, one who Krista believed she would never figure out.

He sat across from her, taking a look at Roe who was still sound asleep.

"Doesn't get much shut eye, does he?" Krista shook her head. "How 'bout you?"

"I get enough." She paused. "I am sorry."

"What, about the other day? It's alright. I'd do that to anybody and I can guarantee they'd do much worse to me. Ain't that right, Liebgott?"

Liebgott, who was sitting next to her, nodded. "I would have shot him." Krista looked at him, appalled. He instantly recognized the mistake.

"Whoa, I didn't mean it like that. I was only joking."

Krista sighed. "How can you…joke about it?"

"Well, considering the circumstances, I think we can joke about anything." Guarnere said, defending Liebgott who merely nodded.

Shaking her head, Krista gave up. There was no use in arguing her point. She was too tired anyway.

A few more familiar faces joined them in the truck, including Toye and Heffron. Guarnere greeted them almost cheerfully. This somehow made Krista feel worse. How could he be so happy after all that had happened?

"Hey guys. How's they hanging?" Krista knew better than to question this one. A conversation began which she barely paid any attention to. Her eyes traveled slowly this way and that observing the goings on.

The trucks revved to life once again. Any person who was not on one scrambled to find a seat before they left. There were plenty this time. If the Germans attacked now, no one would be left alone.

Their truck gave a sudden lurch forward, knocking a few people against each other and Roe against the cab. Fortunately he had his helmet on, an item that Krista still needed to acquire. He woke up yelling in French, swear words for certain. After several 'are you okays' and assurances that he was perfectly fine, Roe turned to Krista as the trucks began pulling out of town.

"Fell asleep again, didn't I?" Krista nodded. This was the third time Roe had randomly fallen asleep. He did not mean to but his eyes could never stay open that long lately, except when casualties came in. Other medics got sleep; Roe did not, sacrificing any opportunity he had so others did not end up like him. Krista tried to stay up with him sometimes, so he would not be alone but he quickly got her to leave saying she should take the opportunity before wounded took it away. She never said anything back, Roe was only being kind.

He sighed. "How long this time?"

"Not long. You sat and…" Krista shrugged her shoulders. He knew the rest.

A frown formed on his face. "I'll fall asleep walking soon."

"Then go to sleep."

Roe shook his head. "I can't do that. What if we get attacked?" Krista gave a look forcing him to forfeit the idea. "Alright, maybe you'd wake me up but I can't sleep. Not now but don't worry. I'm fine." The last time someone told her not to worry like that, they ended up dead but she determined that bit of information should remain private.

It was while she spoke with Roe that the others had gotten closer together, discussing something that brought her name up several times. She paid it no attention at first but then it occurred to her who was in this group. Suddenly she had the need to know what they were talking about.

"What are you doing?" she asked, sticking her head in amongst theirs. The five, being Guarnere, Toye, Heffron, Liebgott and, now noticed, Hoobler, backed away trying to not look conspicuous which was obviously too late.

"Nothing." Liebgott replied simply.

"Can't we have a private conversation?" Guarnere asked.

Krista folded her arms. "Not with my name." By the looks on their faces, they knew they were caught.

Heffron came clean. "Yeah, we were talking about you, about things you did, wondering about others."

"Another pool?" she asked, suspicious.

Hoobler's face lit up. "Hey, there's an idea."

"Shut up, Hoob." Toye said, crushing the man's thoughts. "No, not another pool. We're just curious about you."

Heffron interrupted. "Yeah, like how old you are."

Krista smiled, trying to remember her lessons. "…twenty…"

Guarnere smiled too. "Ha! I told ya!" The others just shook their heads.

"When's your birthday?" Liebgott asked.

"Um…first month."

"January."

"Yes…the third."

"January third, nineteen twenty-four." Krista nodded and watched as the men tried to memorize the date.

Guarnere looked at her. "You Catholic?" For a moment, Krista looked confused. The abruptness of his question threw her off. She also began to wonder why it was so important.

Toye smiled. "Real subtle, Gonorrhea."

Her confusion grew. "What is that?" The men took one look at her, then at Guarnere and began to snicker which eventually turned into an uncontrollable laughing fit for some. Heffron stopped suddenly as though some idea hit him.

He nudged Guarnere. "Maybe we should give Krista a dictionary and have her find out for herself, huh?" They all began to laugh again.

"How 'bout you shut up." Guarnere turned to Krista. "Let's just say that's my nickname because it kinda sounds like my last name. There's nothing else to it, I promise." Krista nodded, still confused but maybe it was best if it remained like that. Judging from the men's reactions, she did not ever need to know what this Gonorrhea was.

"Back to the previous question…" Guarnere looked around to make sure no one wished to interject with another embarrassing comment. "Are you Catholic?" She still did not know the answer to the question so Krista just shrugged her shoulders. Her religion was a mystery to even herself. "Do you know what a rosary is?" She thought about it a bit, thinking back to when Pierre was alive and those times when he thought he was alone. He brought out a beaded necklace and she had caught the name of it once.

Krista nodded. Guarnere smiled.

"See, she's Catholic."

Liebgott frowned. "Hey, I'm Jewish and I know what a rosary is! That doesn't make her Catholic!"

The slight smile that Krista had on her face quickly disappeared when she heard Liebgott's first statement. Anything else in the conversation that was said went unheard by her, drowned out by her growing fear. He was Jewish. If he ever found out what she was or what she knew…the thought of what it would do to him, what he would do…it just killed her. Did he know what happened to people like him? Did he know the atrocities that were being committed? Did he know he could have ended up like the people in those pictures; a nameless body unclothed and starved, tossed into a random hole in the wilderness perhaps never to be seen again? The thought of it caused her to shudder. Krista shut her eyes quickly and looked down, trying to think of something else, anything else, even Pierre because his fate had already been determined.

She felt a hand on her back. "Are you okay?" Liebgott. Why did it have to be him? Of course, he was sitting next to her so it only seemed right that he was the one who noticed and did something about it.

Krista looked up at him, trying to smile but was unsuccessful. "Yes…I am just tired." Hopefully that was enough. She prayed that it was enough. Anymore questions and she just might breakdown and admit everything. Luckily Liebgott left it at that, most likely unconvinced but he understood there was a line that should not be crossed.

She looked over at Roe again, ignoring the others on purpose. The direction their conversation had taken seemed a little over her head. Roe had fallen asleep once more, not his choice she was certain. The movement of the truck did not seem to bother him now, so she would not wake him. Who knew when he would get this chance again?

The trip was long and tedious, much to Krista's disappointment. There was nothing she wanted more than to get out of the truck and, though asking for an attack was a terrible thing to do, she would not have minded too much if the Germans decided to show up now. She quickly regretted that thought as she it occurred to her about how many men would die because of it. Everything she did was wrong; everywhere she went had a bad consequence for her. None of her thoughts were happy for long but this was typical in her life now. Anything else and she might think the world was ending.

They came up to a bridge, the Nijmegen she overheard, and crossed it passing by some groups of other paratroopers. They had different patches on their shoulders. The men on the trucks began yelling to the others, some of the conversations becoming a little harsher than expected.

Soon after crossing, the trucks came to a halt. The men stood up and jumped out, taking the opportunity to stretch their legs; the only two remaining were Krista and Roe. The latter, who was woken up from the sudden lack of motion, looked up.

"Are we there?"

"I do not think so." Krista replied, biting her lip. In all honesty, she did not know. Their destination was a mystery to her, to many of the men.

Roe sat up. "I did it again."

She did not nod this time. "Maybe it means something." He looked at her, accepting her reason but it was not enough for him.

"Doesn't matter, I can't sleep now." He stood up and left the truck like the others had, getting into conversation with another one of the medics, Spina from what she recalled. Several times Roe had let that man sleep after casualties had come in. Spina was not always willing but somehow Roe got him to cooperate.

Krista sighed and looked around. It was the same as it had been before they left, men huddled in little groups chatting each other up, the background was just different, not by much though. There was a river and a few more trees that was all. Holland was certainly a dull country, at least to her. She had grown up with mountains in the background. Flat land tended to bore her and she was running out of ways to entertain herself. Thinking never led to anything good and there was nothing interesting to do, nothing she understood anyway. Boredom should have been a relief compared to what she had been through but seeing how everything she experienced was, for lack of a better word, exciting, it made down time take forever and seem useless. Perhaps that was why Roe never rested; he wanted the day to end already.

The truck bed squeaked as someone climbed on board. She assumed their break was over but when she turned, all she saw was Luz. He gave her a warm smile as he sat down.

"Enjoying the view?"

"Not exactly."

He nodded. "Yeah, it's a nice country and all but I'd rather be in America any day."

Krista smiled, thinking. "What is it like?"

"What, America? Geez…no one's asked me that before. Can't really say. You have to experience it for yourself, you know?" Krista nodded, understanding. "I can say this though, we've got a little bit of everything. It can look like this place or it could be in the middle of a desert. We've got mountains and swamps; we get snow, hurricanes and everything in between."

"It sounds nice." Even though the finishing touch on Luz's description of America was not the greatest, for hurricanes were not the least bit attractive, America did sound like a nice country. If a man could miss his country so much, there must be something to it. She had seen plenty of pictures in textbooks and watched enough movies to convince her that it would be a nice place to go to. It was the country that everyone had talked about it. The most appealing thing, though, was the fact that there were no battles there. America's men may have been at war but America itself was practically untouched. What a nice feeling that must be for some.

"Yeah, it sure is." He paused. "Say, mind if I steal you away from these guys? Something tells me you're not having the greatest time over here." Krista thought about it for a moment. She did not want to leave Roe but nothing bad was really going to happen to him. He was with friends. The worst thing that could happen was him hitting his head again and according to the reactions from the first time it happened, he was in good hands. Plus, she did want to get away from Liebgott before another awkward situation interrupted again.

She nodded. "Okay." The two stood up. Luz, feeling like a gentleman, offered his hand to help her down. They walked about the area taking a look around while exchanging a few words every now and then, mostly about what each had been doing over the past few days. Nothing glamorous but they were jobs that had to get done.

Someone began to shout. They had to get back on the trucks. Luz led her to where his truck was and they climbed aboard. Already there was Webster who smiled as soon as Krista came into view.

"I thought you were staying with the second platoon today." He said as she sat next to him.

Luz shook his head. "No, I'm sure she was getting pretty sick of them. Word's out they were questioning her."

"About what?"

He shrugged. "You know, the basics: age, birthday, religious affiliation…simple stuff."

Now Webster shook his head. "Well, don't worry. We won't do that to you."

"Don't have to. You know how fast stuff travels around here. She's twenty, birthday's January third and Guarnere is almost one hundred percent certain she's Catholic though Liebgott is inclined to disagree." Krista felt her jaw drop. Information about her spread around faster than gossip between girls. These men really did have nothing to do with their spare time.

Webster gave Luz a look. "I don't think that's helping."

"Hey, I'm just out to deliver the facts."

A few more men came on board. The man that sat next to Luz was one she did not know. He was shorter than most of the men but that did not seem to bother him. His height was not a factor when it came to being a good soldier for him. She glanced at him every now and then until an introduction was made.

The man smiled. "Name's Frank Perconte," he said offering a hand. "Most guys call me Perco." Krista took his hand. Non-awkward introductions were always nice.

Luz got a mischievous smile on his face. He could not help it. "Short, isn't he?" Krista opened her mouth to say something in Perconte's defense but…Luz did have a point so she said nothing.

Perconte's smile disappeared. "It's okay, I don't blame you." He looked at Luz and elbowed him. "Hey Luz, how 'bout you shut up and quit pointing out the obvious, huh?"

Luz's smile only grew as did Krista's. No one was ever serious about these things and it was nice to see that. These men were like brothers. They acted exactly like her brother and Arick. She felt her smile drop. How she missed those days.

"Something wrong?" Webster asked concerned. Krista looked up at him. This time she managed to smile. No thoughts of a horrible fate for him took over her mind.

"No, just memories."

Webster nodded. "Yeah, I guess you wouldn't have the greatest memories, would you?" Krista shook her head. If he only knew half of what she had seen it would make his head spin. They did not feel like memories, just horrible nightmares that she could not get rid of, seemingly impossible for the normal person. This just made them worse.

The trucks started and soon they were on their way again, not too far from their destination. The trip was quiet now, not many men on this truck spoke. Webster tried to coax a few words out of her but she was not in the mood for anymore discussions so he let it be, though he would throw an occasional glance in her direction.

A few more minutes and they were at their destination. No one could really tell; it looked the same as any other place they had been too only a little darker than before. Rain clouds were moving in. The men groaned as they jumped down.

Krista tried to look for Roe but she found that it was useless. There were so many men, he could be anywhere. While looking for him, she ran into Nixon who smiled.

"I've been looking for you. Dick wants you to stay with us." Krista simply nodded and followed him over to where Winters was giving orders to some officers, Peacock amongst them. He gave her a funny look as she approached. It was not hatred, more like displeasure with a hint of embarrassment. Krista gave him an equally strange look though it had more irritation in it than anything.

Winters must have noticed the change on Peacock's face for he quickly glanced in her direction. Turning back to the officers, he bade them go.

"What, without introductions first?" asked one. Krista knew the voice. It was the man who had been talking to Nixon those many days before when she hardly knew anyone.

She could feel the annoyance in Winters but he just sighed. A commanding officer could not get mad; not here, not now.

"Alright but make it quick."

The officer smiled and nodded in her direction. "Name's Harry Welsh." Krista nodded as well, choosing to not mention the five dollars that she had heard he owed Nixon. First, she did not want to hear laughter. Second, they did not need to know that she overheard their conversations.

"Lieutenant Harry Welsh," corrected Nixon.

"Yeah, Lieutenant." He motioned to the taller man next to him. "Lieutenant Moose Heyliger."

Heyliger shook his head. "My name is Fred."

"What, you don't want her calling you Moose?"

"Do you expect her to call me Moose?"

Welsh looked over at Krista. "No, I guess not."

Winters coughed. The two lieutenants met a stern look. His patience was wearing thin.

"Right. Well, I guess you already know Lieutenant Peacock." Krista nodded choosing not to look in Peacock's direction which was fine because he was calmly ignoring her as well. "And, uh…well that's it. Alright Dick, I'm finished."

"Good, now get back to your platoons and get them ready. We've got a long march ahead of us."

Thunder boomed overhead causing everyone to look up. Krista blinked as raindrops fell on her. Profanities began to fill the air as the paratroopers realized they would be walking in the mud.

Welsh sighed as he walked away. "It's like we never left England."

Winters turned to Krista. "It's about a three hour march. Think you can do it?"

"I am used to it." She replied confidently.

He nodded and handed her a coat that she never noticed he was holding. "I acquired a raincoat for you. Still working on a helmet though." Krista smiled her thanks and quickly put the coat on. It was a little big but got the job done.

A voice began to shout. "First platoon up front! Second and third follow!"

Krista stuck with Winters and Nixon who lingered just behind first platoon. She did not talk with them for they were discussing plans but every once in a while they would glance back, checking on her. This was how they would know where she was if they got attacked.

A few minutes into the march, the downpour began. Krista's hair was instantly soaked but she did not mind. At least she had a coat. Several men slipped and fell to the ground which brought up much laughter only to be quieted instantly by commanders.

They were not allowed to take breaks. The men on the line needed to be relieved. So they walked. Krista could hear several men complaining under their breath. She could not blame them. Her feet were starting to hurt and she was not carrying anything. A few times she offered to help but the men were either too proud or their leaders were too close.

When they reached their destination, a not so warm sight greeted them. Dead animals were strewn everywhere along with burned down houses, ammo boxes and craters. At least in a city they had some form of cover. Out here there was nothing save a hill or tree. The men's hearts sank lower than they thought they could as they began to settle in for the night.

Krista looked over the landscape, slightly disappointed. She knew better than to expect anything from war but for some reason, she just thought there would be a little more. Perhaps she should have been thankful. A desolate war zone was far better than an active one.

"One company covering three kilometers? Who planned this?" She heard Nixon whisper. He was talking to Winters and a few other officers that had gravitated over.

Winters sighed. "I don't know." He paused, thinking. "Here's what we'll do. I want second and third to establish OPs along the line wherever enemy activity looks most likely. Keep first in reserve." The announcement went up. Anyone who was smiling was assumed to be in first platoon. Profanity was directed at them but mostly at whoever dragged them out here ranging from NCOs to Eisenhower and Montgomery to Hitler.

"Where's the nearest town?" Winters asked.

"Randwijk." Nixon replied.

"Right, we'll set up the CP there. Krista I want you to help Roe get an aid station up there. I'm not letting you on the line." She nodded perfectly fine with the idea, although feeling bad that there would be a roof over her head and not the others.

It took a few minutes for them to get to their new 'home.' Upon arrival any hopes for something better than the place they had just come from vanished without even a thought. The town looked beaten, bare and unlivable. The Germans had marched through it and decimated anything they could get their hands on. War did not leave much room for consideration. The group, comprising of first platoon, Krista, Roe, Nixon and Winters, began to move in, salvaging what they could and taking shelter in whatever had a roof.

* * *

**May 1944**

**Ste. Marie-du-Mont**

She had returned later that night. There was no other place for her to go. She would rather be stuck in horrifically awkward quiet situations with a man she nearly hated than with the Gestapo any day, at least for now.

Pierre did not leave his room that day but emerged later the next. He acted as though nothing had happened, looked at Krista and smiled, joking around with her like he always had. Every now and again, though, she would catch a glimpse of what was really going on inside his head, something he could not hide from her. Everyday was killing him but he chose to remain with her. This could either be found as sweet or rather creepy. At certain times she would lean toward one or the other.

Over the next few months they moved around from town to town not staying long, an occasional week but that was all. Security began to tighten in most areas. She had almost been spotted once but the man was drunk so no one took him seriously. This was enough, though, to concern Pierre.

She was told to pack light, lighter than usual, for they would be traveling a long distance. They would try to get some form of transportation but chance favored walking. No matter how hard she tried, Krista could not pry any information out of Pierre. When bound and determined, no one could get him to talk.

After a few hours of walking, Krista could no longer take it. She plopped down on the ground, crossed her arms and refused to budge. It took Pierre a few moments to realize he was the only one moving.

"_What are you doing? We've got to go!"_

"_I am not moving until you tell me what is going on."_ She said calmly, unaffected by his sudden temper.

"_Nothing different, we are just moving_." He replied, his voice urgent.

"_Nothing different?' You barge into my room, practically drag me out of bed and tell me to pack. I had to leave half of my stuff behind! What is happening?"_ For a moment, she believed he would answer. Instead Pierre sighed, rather annoyed, and grabbed Krista's arm, pulling her up with one swift jerk.

"_We're leaving."_ He began to drag her along not hindered by her resistance. She was weak or he was strong, perhaps it was both but what Krista lacked in muscle she made up for in cunning.

"_I'll scream rape the entire way until you tell me what's going on or a farmer comes with his pitchfork."_ It was a rather immature plan but necessary to find out what was going on. She was sick of going to places without a story behind it. Her moves had been reasonless from the beginning. That ended now.

Pierre stopped. She could see the anger on his face. It was quite amusing. _"I have every right to know."_

His shoulders dropped in defeat_. "Can we at least walk at the same time?"_ She nodded and Pierre let go of her arm. He was silent for a few moments, gathering his thoughts.

"_Security has been picking up in the last few weeks, as you know. There can only be one reason for it: invasion."_

"_Invasion? Well that's great news! Finally the Allies will come and liberate France. Your country will be free again!" _She paused. _"Why are we leaving?"_

"_Because every day that passes makes them more paranoid. Goering knows that they will come to the beaches; he is just not sure which one. Until he knows, security will be tightened to ensure that all of the weak spots have been eliminated."_

"_Are we heading inland then?"_

"_No, France is far too dangerous for you now."_

"_Since when do you care?"_ Krista could feel his stare but refused to look up. Stupid mistake. She bit her lip and tried to think of a new subject. _"So…where are we going?"_

"_Holland. It is still far enough from Germany and is rather easy to get to, if you know the right people."_

"_Why can't we go to Belgium?"_

"_I don't like Belgium." _He paused. _"Besides, many Dutchmen speak German. You won't be such a sore thumb there."_ Normally there would have been a response to that, some immature idea popping into her head but she knew better now. Pierre had a point anyway.

"_You couldn't have told me this?"_

"_I didn't want to worry you."_

Krista sighed. _"Your logic is pathetic. Not telling me makes me paranoid and after everything I've been through, do you honestly think moving was going to concern me? What were you planning on doing when we reached the Belgian border, or even before then? I would have noticed the considerable distance."_

He shrugged. _"Not sure. I guess I was hoping to keep you quiet."_

Krista elbowed Pierre and he actually smiled, even laughed. It felt as though she were home again, hitting her brother after he said something stupid. If only she were back home and this was all a 

dream but she had to think, did she really want to go back to not knowing? To being completely ignorant? They say it is bliss but what about when you found out? The guilt had to be terrible. At least she knew now and was able to do something about it, in a way. The guilt could be dealt with easier this way.

Thunder clapped overhead.

"_What now oh gallant leader?"_ Krista asked, bowing down. Pierre somehow found this amusing. His personality had certainly changed drastically.

"_Don't worry, we're going to be taking a train_." Krista looked at him, not believing a word he said. _"No, I mean it. It's just going to be a little less…convenient than what you are used to."_

"_I am not used to any convenience on a train."_

"_Well then, you shouldn't mind this too much."_

It was down pouring when they reached the station; it was a rather small one, just a stop for loading bits of cargo and dropping off the occasional passenger though those trains rarely passed through there. They hid behind a storage building watching a guard walk back and forth down the line.

"_How do you plan on getting us on board?"_

"_Simple."_ He pointed to an open section of the train. _"We dart over to that opening."_

"_What about the guard?"_

"_He's a friend of mine, the one that left the gate open."_ He paused._ "You didn't think that it was left open by mistake did you?"_

She shrugged. _"They've made stupider mistakes."_

Pierre sighed_. "Alright, when he gives the signal, we make our way over as fast as we can."_ Krista watched the guard, waiting for anything that looked like a signal. Several times she thought they would actually go but Pierre did not budge.

The guard pulled out a cigarette and proceeded to light it.

"_Move."_ Pierre whispered. He grabbed her arm and dragged her across the compound, a run of about twenty yards but enough to make Krista think that she would finally be caught. However, no sirens went off, no shouting could be heard. Everything was still.

Pierre leapt on board the train car and pulled Krista in. Soon after they settled in a back corner, they could hear the guard walking over. He looked inside briefly, giving the slightest nod to Pierre, and then shut the door leaving the two in complete darkness save for a few slits in the metal.

"_Are you sure we can trust him?"_ Krista asked.

"_He saved my life once."_

"_An SS officer who chose not to shoot saved your life too. What's your point?"_

"_I trust him with it, alright? How about you trust me?"_

Krista leaned back against the car. _"Highly unlikely."_

She heard Pierre move to the other end of the car._ "Well, it's too late now. Just try to get some sleep."_ Her memory flashed back to that night in the cabin. It felt like eternity since they were last there. Perhaps it had been.

Krista had not been asleep long when she felt someone shaking her. Thinking it was the housekeeper, Krista slapped them away.

"_It's too early. Go away."_

"_Get up Krista! We've got to get off the train."_ She opened her eyes slowly. A blurry image of Pierre came into view. That was right, no housekeepers now. She was on the run. How she could even still have dreams about home surprised her.

"_But the train isn't even slowing down."_

"_I know. We're jumping."_ Krista sat up fast, nearly smashing her head against Pierre's.

"_We're what? No…no no no no no."_

"_Do you want the Gestapo to get you?"_

"_I'll surrender right now."_

"_Not an option, grab your bag."_ She grabbed the bag, pulling it close to her body. This was crazy. Then again, this was Pierre. He normally did stuff like this. Actually, this seemed rather tame compared to what he usually did, emphasis on 'he.' She was never with him when he did stupid stuff…until now.

Pierre slowly pulled open the car door. Krista watched the flat farmlands pass them by, seemingly moving slow. That was until she looked down.

"_Ready to jump?"_ She gave him the 'you are genuinely psychotic' look and refused to reply.

"_Right then."_ Pierre placed his hand firmly on her back and shoved Krista out of the train. She screamed the entire way not caring if anyone heard. Hitting the dirt hard, she rolled into a bale of hay and sat there for a few moments in a daze, her body screaming curses in Pierre's direction. He came up behind her and, picking her up with ease, moved behind the hay, waiting to see if anyone on the train had noticed their unusual exit.

"_Did you have to scream so loud?"_ he asked.

"_I don't know, did you have to push me?"_

Pierre smiled. The train continued on its way. They were safe. He leaned back on the bale of hay and took a good look at the surroundings.

"_Welcome to Holland."_

* * *

We're on month number two! Yay! It only took me nine chapters!

Sorry I did not cover her English education well. I did not have the patience for it. Flashbacks ending soon! Be prepared!


	10. The End of Safety

Hello! Here I am with chapter ten! Yay, double digits! School is going much smoother now so I might be able to get going on these again. I worked my tail off to finish this one because today is October 5th, the day at the Crossroads and that is what this chapter is about. I thought that was pretty cool.

Must say this: Senior Homecoming rules! 29-7! Go Wolfpack!! Sorry…

About the beginning bit, it seems a little short and random but my creative juices weren't giving me anything better so I just had to go with it. Sorry if it's terrible.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Ten: The End of Safety**

**October 1944**

**Randwijk, Holland**

"Are you sure we should do this?" Spina asked having second thoughts on the idea.

"It is nothing bad." Krista replied. "And he needs it." The medic nodded, agreeing but hoping there would be no backlash.

Together they walked to a store room in the back where Roe was found putting away medical supplies. The last rush of wounded had left the room terribly unorganized and it was impossible to find anything one needed in the small amount of time they had to get it. Someone needed to straighten it up so precious seconds need not be wasted. Roe had, not surprisingly, volunteered. Another job to get done, another chance to stay awake. He turned around as they entered the room, slightly concerned that both had come.

"Is something wrong?"

"I don't know. Why don't you tell us?" Spina asked his voice a little solemn.

Roe looked confused. "I've been in here all day, how would I know?" Neither responded; they simply watched him. A thought suddenly dawned on him. "You're not here for the men, are you?"

Krista shook her head. "No. We are here for you."

He sighed, starting to get real sick of everything that was going on. "Like I said before, I'm fine."

"If falling asleep at random times without your consent is the definition of fine, then alright." Spina replied, his confidence in the 'mission' growing.

Roe glared at the medic but said nothing.

"We are trying to help." Krista said trying to ease the tension. "Just get some sleep."

"I don't need it." Roe stated not convincing anyone. "And what if more wounded come?"

"We will wake you!" Krista shouted. This little stubborn bit of his was becoming tiresome.

"No." His voice was stern and cold reminding her of so many others she had known. She gave him an equally cold stare; she did not hate him, in fact it was the opposite. She was not going to back down until he gave in. Why would he not try to understand?

Spina coughed. "Eugene, you and I both know Captain Winters can make you. He takes concern in situations like this, so you can either take a break now or later under a direct order."

Roe looked stunned, even betrayed, for a while, and then he sighed. There was no used fighting a battle you were destined to lose, at least in this case.

"Alright, I'll do it." He paused, knowing he needed to add more. Admitting you are wrong is the hardest thing to do. "Guess I just got a little distracted by work. Thought once I stopped everything would fall apart."

"Well you know some of us are capable of doing the job too." Krista looked over at Spina and hit him, not appreciating his addition to the conversation. This brought a smile from Roe.

"This is not for you." She whispered.

"Yeah, I know. I just thought I'd…" The glare he received made him stop. Spina raised his hands up and walked away. Krista turned back to roe and smiled, knowing full well that she looked completely ridiculous.

"So the score stands: Krista two, professionals zero. I suppose this was your idea?"

"Yes."

"I figured as much. Why'd you bring Spina?"

"I needed good English." Roe's smile grew as he stepped out of the store room. "In the back there is a bed."

"Thought of everything haven't you?" She smiled nodding. "Thank you." Those two words left Krista speechless for a moment. It was the last thing she ever expected him to say after all the days of annoying persuasions and all of the times he had stormed off leaving her unsure of if he would ever speak to her again. But he said it, truly meaning it. This gave Krista a warm feeling inside. Even after helping with all of the casualties, this was the first time she really felt like she was doing something, that she was affecting change in a good way. Maybe atonement had begun after all.

* * *

It was down pouring again, the same as yesterday and the day before. Krista missed the sun. Perhaps she should not have cursed it before.

The few days that she had spent with the men had once again taken a toll on her clothes. They were worn and covered with blood but she had not gotten any replacements despite several efforts from Nixon who had taken a liking to granting her favors. She did not mind the lack of new outfits though. None of the others had new uniforms to change into, why should she?

Krista sat on the porch of one of the buildings, like she always did, watching the rain fall, often staring in the direction of the front line where the men she knew were getting drenched. What a miserable existence it must have been.

The German shepherd next to her began to whine. He wanted to play.

"No Trigger." The dog put his head down again silently objecting to her response. Found by Talbert, Krista had the opportunity to watch Trigger whenever he was on the line. He was a good dog and appeared to know German which she whispered to him occasionally when she was certain no one was around. They would have lovely conversations which sounded crazy but it helped. Too bad the only truly serious discussions she ever had were with someone who could not answer.

The porch creaked as someone walked on it. Krista looked over at the not so surprising sight. As company first sergeant, Lipton was around quite often, at least more so than the others. He would often visit with her before heading back to the line. There was a stick in his hand which Trigger noticed. Before Krista could say anything, he bounced up and ran toward Lipton, waiting for his opportunity to grab it. Lipton saw this coming and tossed the stick but not before getting bumped into first. Obviously there was no apology from Trigger as he disappeared into the rain.

Krista sighed. "He is wet." She heard Lipton chuckle to himself.

"Sorry about that." He said sitting next to her. "Couldn't resist."

She nodded turning her gaze back to the rain soaked world. "How is it?" The mood became serious even before Lipton spoke.

"Cold, wet, muddy. Most of the guys are getting colds, some are losing their voices. No one's seen the sun for a couple days. The littlest thing can set someone off." He paused. "It's not too good."

"And I am here."

"Hey, it's alright. No one's blaming you. I know all the guys feel better knowing you're safe here." Krista thought about it and nodded, though she did not feel better.

Thunder clapped overhead. Lipton looked around.

"Where's Trigger?"

As if on cue, in came the German shepherd, stick in mouth, completely soaked. He put the stick down and proceeded to shake, flinging water on the occupants of the porch. Krista and Lipton looked at each other and laughed, both petting the dog who was satisfied with the run.

Lipton picked up the stick. "He brought the wrong one back." They began to laugh again. "Reminds me of my dog."

"You have a dog?"

"Yeah, an old mutt. Sits on the porch all day like this guy." He patted Trigger on the back. "He supposedly eats anything…then my wife tried to cook." Krista stifled a laugh out of respect for his wife. It did not seem right considering she did not know her.

"You are not nice."

"Yeah, that's what she says, harsher words but basically what she says." Lipton paused. "She dropped the food she was making, not sure what it was, it looked pretty burned beyond recognition. Anyway, that mutt comes running in thinking he's going to get a free meal. He takes one whiff of that thing and bolts the other way." Krista could not control her laughter now. Together the two laughed for quite some time as the rain began to stop falling.

Lipton looked over at the clearing horizon. "Well, there you go. Things might be looking up after all."

"Maybe." Krista replied, her voice not so certain.

* * *

They were in a barn, or a stable; she could not be sure. Krista sat in the hay watching the poker game nearby. Every now and then Trigger would come by with his stick, too lazy to go back to Talbert. She would toss it in his direction but eventually the process would start over.

Roe was a few rooms away doing…something. She was not sure what but that did not matter. Webster was off somewhere, Luz was a few feet away as was Lipton but no one was talking to her. They were just letting her sit, watching them curiously. The lack of attention was rather comforting. She was becoming 'normal.' No longer did they think of constantly watching out for her, except for Guarnere who chatted her up every time he was around.

All had grown rather quiet. A few whispers here and there, even the poke game was limited to a few mumbles every now and then. The peace was so nice that no one realized it was too good to be true.

The second the door busted open, everyone was on their feet, expecting the worst. Krista ran to the front where the first thing she saw was the blood and then the face. She knew the man. Her heart dropped slightly but that did not stop her from doing the job.

They placed the paratrooper, Alley, on a table nearby after clearing everything off with one swift push. He was bleeding from the side, obviously a grenade; she had seen enough of them.

"Shirt off!" She shouted not caring if her English made sense or not, someone was bound to understand her, which they did. Talbert ran up quickly, ripping off Alley's shirt so the wounds were visible. Another person, thinking ahead, handed Krista a canteen which she used to wash the blood away, revealing the gaping holes in his side. She had no bandages forcing her to wait for Roe to show up, which did not take long.

"What happened?" Roe asked as he ran inside, hands already digging through his bag.

"Germans pitched a grenade." Liebgott replied. He stood right behind Krista. She was talking to Alley now who was still very conscious. "It was at the crossroads."

"And it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't opened you big mouth!" Someone in the background shouted.

"Why don't you shut your trap!"

Winters stepped in. "Quiet! Lipton get me a squad!" The first sergeant disappeared from the corner of Krista's eye but she paid it no attention, focusing everything on keeping Alley calm.

"Hello, Mo."

"Geez, you didn't call me James. It must be bad." Alley replied his tone not too concerned.

Roe looked over. "You're not staring at her chest. I think you already know that." Despite the pain he was in, Alley managed to smile.

"Hey Doc, have a heart. Laughter hurts." Roe handed Krista a small vial: morphine. She quickly injected it into his leg. Alley's smile seemed to grow almost instantly.

"Hey Liebgott, you going back out?" Roe asked not looking up from Alley's wounds.

"Yeah, I am."

"Have Krista check out your neck first." This got her attention. Krista turned around to face Liebgott who had a decent amount of blood on his neck.

"Joe, are you…?"

"I'm fine." Liebgott said abruptly, his voice a little cold.

Krista's eyes narrowed. "No you are not." She grabbed a bandage from Roe's bag and motioned Liebgott over to the wall. "Sit." Liebgott looked ready to protest but he took one look at her stare and decided not to chance it. Sitting down, he looked up at Krista. She grabbed the canteen he offered and proceeded to clean his wound. It remained quiet for a moment.

"It's my fault." Liebgott whispered. Krista looked around first to see if anyone noticed. Most were too busy getting ready to head out.

"What is?"

"Alley." He paused. "I was a little behind. I heard voices, thought it was Youman, and called out. It was stupid. I could have gotten everyone killed." Krista sighed, looking up at him but he refused to make eye contact, preferring the sight of the wall instead. She wrapped the bandage as fast and as delicate as she could.

"They are fine…you are fine." Liebgott looked at her for a second, almost confused but then Winters called out to the squad. Hurriedly he leapt up and grabbed his rifle. The men sifted out leaving the barn in an eerie silence. Another sinking feeling hit Krista. Never before had she felt so concerned about these men, so certain that something was going to happen to one of them.

* * *

The sun had begun to rise and still the men had not returned. Instead, more had left. Everyone she knew had gone to the battle, even Roe. In the distance she could hear gunshots, tying her stomach up tighter every time. Each shot could be someone dead, someone she knew and cared about. Shells did not seem as bad now; no man runs out to face those.

Krista had strayed as far from the barn as she dared. She stood near the edge of a road, pacing back and forth from time to time waiting for someone familiar, for some kind of news as to what was happening. The wait was going to be the death of her.

There was a low rumble overhead, something that she instantly recognized as shells. Dropping down into a ditch below, Krista covered her head with her hands, thinking it was intended for her. Nothing happened; she felt ridiculous. Of course the shells were not coming for her, she was one person. No one would waste their ammo on a lone person. But if there was a group…

Jumping out of the ditch, Krista ran down the street heading toward the gunshots. Out in the open, they were no match for the shells and even if they survived, there would still be bullets. The chances of her ever seeing the men she knew again seemed to decrease by the second. No more Roe or Liebgott, Luz or Malarkey. She would even miss Guarnere's conversations, no matter how annoying they tended to get and her stupid ones with Webster, even though she usually embarrassed herself out of them.

Krista slowed down. She had to stop thinking about this. They were not dead, they would not do that to her, not after what happened to Pierre. Of course, they did not know but they had to assume by what they had seen or heard. But this was war and men had no choice as to whether they lived or died. Even if the men were dead, what could she do? It was too late to do anything for them or for those who were going to die. If she just showed up, everyone would be focused on keeping her safe and that would get someone else hurt. She was not about to let someone die because of her. No, not again.

Plopping down on the road, Krista watched what she assumed was the battlefield, waiting again for anything that would hint as to what was going on. All she heard was the sound of gunshots, the last thing she needed to hear.

'Calm down, Krista.' She told herself. 'Panicking will do you no good here.' What else was she supposed to do? She did the decent thing by not putting herself in danger, the least she could do was freak out over what was happening.

Another noise caught her attention. It was not the sound of shells but something else, small and hardly noticeable but she could hear it: a small voice shouting over a distance. Was it calling to her? Looking around, she could see no one else so she had to assume. Standing, she ran in the direction it was coming from but soon the voice stopped. Krista continued to search.

"Hello?" She called out hoping to get a response.

"Krista!" Her heart skipped a beat. She knew that voice. Charging into a field below the road, Krista ran toward the voice once again, this time seeing a figure stretched out in the dirt.

"David!" Indeed it was Webster, crawling his way through the field looking muddy and exhausted, not to mention a little ticked off at the whole situation. He looked surprised though as he watched Krista make her way over. "Why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same question." Webster replied as she knelt beside him. It was then she noticed his leg.

"You are hit!"

"Million dollar wound." Krista was too distracted by his injury to even question what his sentence meant.

Satisfied with the bandage, she looked at him. "Can you stand?"

"Last time I tried that, the Krauts fired off some lovely 88s." So much for her theory on wasting artillery for one person. "But seeing as how you're okay, I guess I'll give it another try." With Krista's help, Webster managed to stand up. Using his rifle and Krista as sort of makeshift crutches, he was able to get onto the road. They stood there for a while listening to the silence marked by an occasional gunshot.

"How far to the aid station?"

"Far enough."

Webster sighed. "Maybe I ought to just sit here and wait for a ride." There was another noise in the distance but Krista paid it no attention.

"Is anyone…dead?"

"Just one guy."

She could have dropped. "Who?"

"You don't know him."

"Who?" she asked again, this time more stern. He could not tell her who she did or did not know. Last time she checked he was not around with her every second of the day. The only person who could really say anything was Roe.

"Dukeman." He was right, she did not know him but pain was felt nonetheless. Maybe she had seen him before, passed him briefly, maybe even smiled at him. She never truly knew him and now he was dead but perhaps it was better than if she had known him.

Webster shifted, looking down the road. He heard the noise as well which had continually gotten louder.

"Do you hear that?" he asked. Squinting, Krista could just barely make out a speck on the horizon, traveling down the road at a reckless pace. She began to wave, making sure that the driver took notice of them. The vehicle, now looking more and more like a jeep, swerved a bit but managed to give them a wide enough berth. It also began to slow down, the occupants noticing that Webster was injured.

"Would you look at that?" Webster said, smiling. "My ride's here."

Two medics quickly jumped off the jeep as soon as it stopped. There was someone on the back that looked in terrible condition. Clearly they needed to get him out of there as fast as they could.

"We've only got room for one and that's him." Krista nodded, watching the medics put him on the hood of the truck. Webster did not look too thrilled about being used as a windshield. He looked prepared to walk back to the aid station but made no verbal objections; he simply looked at Krista.

"You're going over there aren't you? That's why you were out here in the first place." Krista opened her mouth to object but then shut it again. She could not lie to him, not about something this obvious. Instead she nodded, watching the concern creep into Webster's eyes. He wanted to tell her not to go but that would be useless. The only way to keep her from leaving was for him to physically get out of the jeep and hold her there. That was not going to happen anytime soon. So Webster said nothing else, he just nodded like she had and waited for the jeep to start up again.

Krista watched the jeep until it was well out of sight, and then her heart began to race. Webster had said that only one man was dead but clearly he had not been over there for a while. Someone else could be dead by now and it was doubtful that she would get, for lack of a better word, lucky again.

Once more she was running, the silence of the battlefield ahead agonizing instead of comforting. Paranoia had reached its peak, pushing her to go faster. Every second wasted was another life lost, another friend dead. She could not let that happen. Her heart could take it no more.

Another speck on the horizon, no, more than one. There was a group of people walking down the road, a majority of them with their hands over their heads. As she got closer, Krista could make out the one man with a rifle. It was Liebgott, still basically whole except for the cut on his neck. Not caring about the prisoners, Krista ran up to Liebgott and hugged him. The latter watched the Germans, expecting them to move but they merely stood still, watching the two curiously.

"You are okay." The genuine relief in her voice threw Liebgott off slightly. He sat still for a moment, unsure of what to do. It was Krista who realized that this was not the right place so she quickly backed off.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine. Why…why are you here?"

"I wanted to see the others." Krista replied, curiosity forcing her to glance over at the Germans.

"I just came from there. Everyone's fine, alright? C'mon, I need to get you back to HQ." Liebgott grabbed her arm but Krista was rooted to the spot. He looked at her. "Krista?"

She was staring at the prisoners, shock written all over her face. Even tears were beginning to well up for reasons Liebgott did not know, that no one knew except for her for she knew these uniforms, knew who these men were but still she had to ask.

"Shutzstaffel?" One of the men nodded, confirming her fears. Before Liebgott could do anything, Krista bolted toward the battlefield, fueled this time by the certainty of death.

"Krista!" Liebgott started to run after her but realized he still had the prisoners to look out for. Fortunately, there happened to be a private coming his way. Perhaps Winters wanted him to be checked on. Liebgott did not care at the moment.

"Private!" he shouted. "Private, take these men back to HQ!" The man looked about ready to say no but when Liebgott darted past him, he had no choice but to take care of the prisoners. Even running as fast as he could, Liebgott knew he would not catch Krista before she saw the field. He only hoped she stopped there. He watched Krista make her way to the top, picking up his pace after he saw her collapse. She must have seen the bodies, that was the only explanation.

Krista did not move, not even when Liebgott came up beside her. All she could do was stare, tears streaming down. Liebgott would assume that it was the shear amount of dead, the confirmation of a disturbing battle, that is what everyone would assume just like they had done with her, thinking that she was Dutch. Perhaps if they had not, they would understand why the tears came now.

Liebgott put his hand on her shoulder. "Let's get you out of here." Krista said nothing; instead she shook off his hand. Standing up, she began to walk down onto the field, passing by dead Germans to her left and right, not caring how it looked. She knew full well what she was admitting now, that everyone would know her true heritage. They would hate her but she did not care. For now, no one was there, except her and the dead men, including one that looked disturbingly familiar.

* * *

**September 1944**

**Eindhoven, Holland**

Krista entered a small flat, a bag of groceries in hand. The Dutch Resistance had been kind and lent it to them saying that anyone against Hitler was most certainly welcome. Humming a local tune, she made her way into the kitchen where Pierre sat reading a newspaper. The past few months had gone by fairly smooth. The arrival of the Allies had distracted the Germans allowing even a wanted person such as Krista to wander the streets unnoticed.

"_What is happening today?"_ Krista asked, not particularly caring. The news would be the same today as it had been the day before: good. There was no way that the Germans would admit to the Dutch that their grip on Europe was slipping, though most assumed it anyway.

"_Farmers market attracts record number of patrons."_ Pierre replied, putting down the paper. _"I don't know why I bother getting these anymore."_

Krista smiled. _"Because you have nothing better to do with your time. No more Nazis to kill, no more buildings to blow up…"_ How easily these words flowed through her mouth. Two years ago this would have stunned her but now it was nothing. If life had taught her anything, it was to not care.

"_Ah, yes. How I miss those days." _

Grabbing an apple, Krista sat across from Pierre. _"And if we had stayed, we would be done with this by now."_

Pierre's smile vanished. _"Must you bring this up everyday?"_

"_Until the Allies come…"_ She took a bite from her apple. _"Yes."_

He sighed. _"Look, I'm sorry. So we had to wait a few more months to get out but I happen to know that the Allies will be coming here soon."_

"_Did you not say that last month?"_ Krista asked as she began to laugh at the expression on Pierre's face.

"_I am serious this time. Soon we will be free, those papers of yours will be safe in the hands of the Allied commander and all will be well."_ Both smiled at the thought of no more running, no more killing, just a normal life. It seemed an impossible dream but ever since the Allies had successfully invaded on the sixth of June, it began to look more real with every day that passed.

"_What do you plan on doing once we are 'free'?" _

Pierre thought about it a moment. _"Well, a little bird told me that Paris was liberated so I must stop in there, visit a few of my close friends."_

"_Are these friends of yours cabaret dancers?"_

"_That is beside the point; they are still friends of mine. After that, I think I'll return to St. Lô. There was some nasty fighting around there so I suspect that there is some cleaning that needs to be tended to."_

Krista nodded. _"I suppose I'll look for my father."_

"_Do you honestly believe he is still alive?"_ Though deep down in her heart, she had hope, most of her believed that her father was long gone but she was not about to let Pierre in on that idea.

"_Clearly you don't know him."_ She paused. _"It will be strange, won't it? Two years together and we go our separate ways just like that?"_

"_Well, we don't have to."_

Krista rolled her eyes and sighed. She knew this was coming. _"Not again Pierre."_

"_What? I think the idea of marriage is not that bad."_

She turned to him, eyes turning a little cold. _"It is not bad when both people agree to it. I still happen to wake up in the morning, walk in here and go 'Oh God, it's him.'"_

"_I happen to know quite a few people who think I am very good looking."_

"_I never said that you were not good looking."_

"_So you'll admit I'm handsome?"_

"_Humble, aren't we?"_ Pierre just smiled_. "No, what I meant was I never said you were ugly but good looks has nothing to do with marriage."_

"_Then why won't you say yes?"_

Krista resisted the urge to chuck the apple at his head. _"Well, besides the fact that I don't love you, I just plain can't stand you."_

"_Now you're hurting my feelings."_ This time she did chuck the apple, hitting him square between the eyes.

"_That's not the only thing that will be hurting."_ While she watched Pierre swear up a storm, something else caught her attention. She clearly heard what sounded like books dropping; she only knew this because it had happened before.

Krista stood. _"Stupid cat. I still don't understand why you keep it."_

"_Because it annoys you."_ Sticking her tongue out, Krista ducked just in time for Pierre had tossed the apple back, which uselessly hit against the wall and fell to the floor.

Humming once again, Krista made her way into the living room where a pile of books sat, knocked off the shelf to her left. Picking the books back up, she began to wonder where the cat had gone. It did not really matter for she could never actually catch the thing; it adored Pierre and hated her. One of these days, though, she would exact her revenge.

She placed the books back on the shelf and looked out the window nearby. It was a beautiful, sunny day ending the week's worth of rain they had gotten. Movement below caught her eye. There was a flower box sitting on the window sill. Inside it was a cat, specifically theirs. Fear gripped her heart. If it was not the cat then who…

Something moved behind her. Krista turned around quickly, ready to scream something but she found a hand upon her mouth, stifling any noise she made. They wore a familiar uniform, one she had seen so many times before: SS. Looking up, Krista's eyes widened, not in fear but shock for she knew them.

"_Dieter?"_ Her muffled voice asked. He smiled. For a moment she had not recognized him. His stare was so cold, his smile so cruel. He had become everything their father was against, perhaps for that reason.

"_Hello Krista. Long time no see, right?"_ Her eyes narrowed. She was not going to let him get her so easily. Over the years she had taught herself to hate. Dieter had underestimated her, thinking that the shock was going to keep her still and so she took advantage of it. With all the force she could, Krista drove her knee into his stomach, causing her brother to double over in pain. Never before had she hurt him so much but it did not matter now. She fully believed he would kill her if he had the chance.

"_Pierre!"_ she screamed. This would get his attention. She only hoped that he had some plan in case they ever were found. Krista ran out of the room but immediately found herself facing a loaded pistol. They centered it on her forehead but their hand shook so much that it could not stay there. Unfortunately, at this distance they could not miss. She could run but what would be the point? Death had finally caught up to her.

There was a blur in the background. The pistol went off. Krista fell to the ground, covering herself. Someone had knocked the man over causing the bullet to lodge itself in the wall instead of her head. She looked over. Pierre was beating the man, his blood covering the floor quickly.

"_Get out of here!"_ He shouted at her. _"Now Krista!"_ She heard him but could not move. Something kept her there. Footsteps approached from behind. Her brother had recovered. As Pierre turned to Krista again, he saw and stopped. Krista looked up. Dieter had his pistol aimed at Pierre, ready to fire at any moment. She could have tackled him, hit him, done anything to stop Dieter from firing but this time her brother's assumption was right. Krista did nothing as he pulled back the trigger.

It was the sound that snapped her out of it, not of the gunshot but of Pierre's agonizing scream. She screamed as well as she tried to get up and run to him but Dieter grabbed her. He was so much stronger now. All she could do was struggle against his grip and cry out Pierre's name over and over. A black bag was placed over her head and she screamed louder still, hoping that someone would come now, that someone would help but no one would. They were outnumbered and needed to keep their identities hidden; they all knew it was too late for the two.

Something smashed against her head. Krista fell silent, hitting the floor with a thud. Two years she had been running and now when freedom was so close, so near, fate decided that her time was finally up.

* * *

And there is chapter ten. A lot shorter than I had intended but it keeps the story going. The next chapter shall be very emotional so it might take me a bit. Only one more flashback left!


	11. Reality

Happy Halloween!!!!

After a painstakingly difficult process, I have managed to finish my eleventh chapter. This is the big BOOM folks and happens to be the end of my flashbacks. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please review! That would mean the world to me!

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Reality**

**September 1944**

**Nuenen, Holland**

She had not heard anything for hours, which was what scared her. For all she knew they were sitting there, watching her, pointing weapons, making faces, anything but she could not see them thus the fear remained.

The last memories before the blackout replayed in her head over and over; the gun, the shot, the scream, repeat. Again and again it continued until she could take it no longer and then it played once more.

Dieter, he pulled the trigger. How could he? The brother that she never thought would be able to shoot anything more than a slingshot. He was so cold, so dead on the inside; he shot with no remorse as if he had done it before. How many lives had been taken by him? How many dead at the hands of a terrible cause? Too many, she assumed, and now there was one more.

No, she thought, eyes opening wide despite the darkness. He was not dead, if that was the one thing she saw, it was him looking at her, trying to stand and failing. That was what Dieter had intended. She could kill him the hatred was so strong.

Kill? Her own brother? Had life become so terrible that she was willing to take the lives of her family? Yes…she would admit it now. Life was that terrible. Besides, that man she had seen was her brother no longer, another fact she had to accept. He was a machine constructed by a corrupt government with the cruelest intentions in mind. His soul was buried away; he had orders to fulfill.

And what had happened to her soul while she watched the trigger slowly pull back? She could have stopped him, could have saved Pierre but all she did was watch as her world came crashing down. Always doing the wrong thing, sitting in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps that was her lot in life; perhaps she was destined to kill those she cared for.

A door slammed; Krista bolted upright. Footsteps walked inside, the sound echoing throughout. Her body wanted to move, wanted to flee but her hands were bound to the chair she sat upon, as were her ankles. To move would do nothing but provide her captors entertainment.

Something was whispered, too soft to understand. Someone stood and walked out. She was never alone. The thought of what they had done without her knowledge began to overwhelm her mind. The sheer amount of 'what ifs' was enough to do her in right now.

The footsteps came closer, stopping directly in front of her. They said nothing, or maybe they had. Her breathing had grown so loud that it could consume any sound made.

The black bag was ripped off, rendering Krista blind for a few moments. Her lungs grasped the free air in huge gulps, calming her nerves for a few moments until she remembered where she was.

Krista dared not move her head, instead she glanced at what was in front of her. It was a small room, or at least it appeared to be. Windowless, paint less, hardly intimidating to the average person but for those who had been there before, it was a thing of nightmares, there with them forever in the scars of various forms. It was here that she, Sabine Krista Nimholtz, daughter of a General and Great War nurse, sister to a member of the SS, would discover the lengths people would go to in order to keep a secret.

A hand grabbed her head from behind, shoving it down with no consideration for pain. She tried to suppress a scream but was pretty much a failure at that.

"_You will not look up, you will not look around. Every time you do, there will be a consequence."_ His voice was sharp, cruel and emotionless, a veteran of questionings. It scared her; everything scared her. Perhaps she should have stopped Dieter, if only to get shot herself.

"_And just because you are a woman does not mean it will be any less harsh. You gave up the right to fair treatment when you betrayed your leader and your country."_

"_I did not betray my country."_ Never thinking before she said anything, Krista soon paid the price. Her neck cracked she was backhanded so hard. Tears streamed down from the pain but strangely she made no noise.

"_You will not speak unless directed to and when you do it will not be lies! You have betrayed your country and have committed heinous crimes against its citizens!"_

"_No I have not!"_ Another backhand, this time on the other cheek.

"_What about Chartres, hmm?"_ He asked, voice calmer. _"Do not thing that we do not know about it. Or Neuville? Cherbourg? Caen? Your French counterpart leaves a trail so obvious a blind man could follow him."_

"_I did not kill anyone who did not deserve it."_ Another hit. It was almost disturbing how fast she got used to it.

"_Stubborn, just like your father. Tell me, how is he doing?"_ Krista looked up this time knowing her response would receive a punishment anyway.

"_He's not going to hell unlike you!"_ The chair fell over this time she was hit so hard. She did not feel the impact; her body already numb. Perhaps she was destined to be captured all along and these two years of somewhat freedom were only there to prepare her. No doubt if she had been captured that day in Strasbourg, this interrogation would have gone differently.

Her chair was set up again, her head smashed down, and the ranting process continued.

* * *

It was dark now, as it had been before only this time no bag consumed her head. They had left her in the room, lights off, stuffed in a corner on the floor with her arms still tied behind her back. She could still feel the blood making its way down her chest. Her interrogator, a younger man with the feel of an ancient fossil, had decided to test her resistance to pain. Head held back by a guard, Krista could only wait, and then scream, as he whipped out his own knife and carved a line into her flesh. His smile of satisfaction would have been chilling if the pain had not blinded her.

That was hours ago, or had it only been minutes? It did not matter. Time was not important, not anymore. In fact, there was not really anything that seemed to be except keeping her mouth shut save for insults. What she said could only get her killed but it was better than anything else these men had planned for her.

The blood continued its slow journey down her skin only increasing her need to touch it but the rope around her writs was tighter than before, surely cutting into them as well. While the man questioned her, something had happened to the rope, a poor tying job was the likely culprit. Once she noticed the freedom of her hands, Krista did the only thing she could, and wanted, to do. Waiting until the interrogator came closer, she gave him a good punch filled with all the hatred she had been holding for two years. It did not seem like much but it was enough to break the already crooked nose of his. Maybe that was why he enjoyed the cut so well.

Footsteps, they were never good. Krista found herself praying for death, right now, if only to end the pain, if only to make everything go away. She knew it would not be answered but that was what she did anyway.

The other half of the room flooded with light as the door opened; the footsteps came inside and halted, their owner remaining quiet. This was not the man from before. More footsteps echoed by and entered, turning on the bright lights while they were at it. They came closer, stopping at the corner of her eyes. It was him. His nose was taped up; the sight of it lifted her spirits, though only a little.

"_I see you are still awake…and still alive."_ Krista continued her staring at the wall she could not see before. The corners of his mouth lifted. _"No comeback? No insults? Froilein you disappoint me, just like you did him."_ Her eyes met his now, attempting to be just as cold but she could not hold his gaze long. He was right, the only time she would ever admit it.

"_Seeing as how previous methods of persuasion have yielded few results, my superiors have suggested a different technique for the time being. As soon as it fails, we will continue with my preferred way. Until then, I will take my leave."_ He left her vision, heading back towards the door. _"Nimholtz, I leave you with her. Do not do anything stupid."_

The door was shut again but the lights remained on. Anger pulsed through her veins. So that was their tactic now, use the family to convince her. Did they honestly think she would be swayed by the man who shot Pierre? Brother or not, it did not matter. He was dead to her now.

"_Krista?"_ Hearing his voice, she tensed up in an instant. How caring and concerned his voice sounded now, a far cry from what it had before. His soul was present now, or at least a very good impersonation of it. _"Krista, please talk to me."_

She actually began to laugh. _"You act as though all you did was play a simple trick on me."_ Repositioning herself, Krista managed to sit up. _"You shot a man Dieter! A man I know!"_

"_What did you expect me to do? He was beating up one of my men!"_

"_Because your man was about to shoot me!"_ She could not believe that they were even having this conversation, that he really thought he had an excuse for what he did. The terrible thing was that he still acted as though all he did was steal from a man, not attempt to end his life. Even more terrible was she acted like it as well. So used to death even when close ones die. She was becoming numb in every way.

"_You would have shot me yourself!"_

Dieter actually looked shocked. _"I would have never harmed you!"_

Krista began to laugh again, this time uncontrollably. _"You…you mean to tell me that you: a man who sneaks into my home, shoots my friend and black bags me, would not have shot me? You hit me against the wall and knocked me unconscious! You shot with no remorse; you have no soul! Do you really expect me to believe that I would not have received the same treatment?"_

"_That is not fair."_

More laughter. _"Not fair? For the past two years I have been a fugitive of my own country running from town to town all over Europe, losing sight of what I once knew and becoming painfully aware that everything is a lie! And during this lovely escapade, you were getting promotion after promotion by trampling over people that Hitler calls the enemy when they are only different from him, different from you. Do you think this was fair to me? That it was fair to them? Life is not fair Dieter!"_ Her voice was becoming louder, more desperate, more angered. She was making her point but Dieter refused to listen.

He sighed. _"I don't expect you to understand."_

"_Understand? I know perfectly well what is going on; I don't live in ignorant bliss anymore! That is why I'm here and it is the only reason! I helped kill people, I'll admit it, so throw me in prison! You're holding me here because I know the truth, I know the things that the newspapers are too afraid to print and I know that Hitler is nothing more than a raving lunatic who has gone over the edge and is dragging his country down with him!"_

During her latest rant, Dieter's anger had slowly grown, soon amounting to her level. The last line was enough for him. Blinded by rage, Dieter stepped forward, lifting his arm back behind his head. It was when he caught her stare that he stopped. Her eyes were cold, not like before with a sort of sisterly disgust, but they were the honest, staring into a soulless being, hatred coursing though every vein cold. This was not the sister who mysteriously vanished years ago.

"_Do it."_ she said, her voice as cold as her eyes_. "Why are you hesitating? You're one of them, aren't you? Go ahead, slap me around, it's what they want isn't ? Go ahead and prove to me you're nothing, that the big brother I always looked up to is dead and that everything our father knew is gone!"_ Dieter's arm slowly lowered itself as he came to terms with reality. Everything she had said was true, but he would not admit it. It was too late to think about what he had done; only what he had to do.

Grabbing his sister by the shoulders, Dieter pulled her forward; she did not resist. There seemed no point now. He took out a knife stored inside his boot.

"_So you're going to use the knife, huh? Just like your superior, how original. What, are you too afraid to use your fists?"_ Her voice may have seemed overly cold, hinting that she was still afraid. Dieter made no indication that he noticed; he simply continued with his work. Soon the ropes loosened and fell from her wrists.

Krista looked over at Dieter who stood up quickly after he finished. For a moment she had no response, no cruel retort, nothing except a look of surprise at the little kindness her brother gave. Then Pierre's face flashed into her mind and she once again realized that no one was nice without having paid a price.

Forgetting how much her body hurt, Krista jumped up and launched herself at Dieter, trying to hit him in anyway possible. Unlike his superior, her brother was much faster, plus he had a little warning, so he stopped any hits easily, quickly grabbing her wrists to prevent more. She struggled uselessly as she had before, slowly giving up for there was no chance of escape.

"_You shot him! You threw everything away; you pushed everyone away!"_

"_Krista, I am trying to get you out of here! Look, if you just tell them what they want, you'll be free. Forget about the Frenchman." _She stopped any remaining struggles and looked at her brother as though he were insane.

"_Forget about…fine. Fine!"_ Krista broke free of Dieter's grip and stepped back. _"I can forget about him. He was not the greatest character, frankly he was annoying. I could forget about the man who saved my life numerous times, who gave me a home for two years, who fell in love with me…I could forget him but I can't forget them."_ All she received as a reply was a confused look.

Her anger boiled over once again. _"Don't play stupid with me Dieter, this is not a game! Don't tell me you know nothing of the camps!"_

Dieter nodded. _"Alright, I won't."_

"_Then tell me why it's happening! Tell me why you're just standing here while hundreds die! Tell me why you don't care!"_

He sighed once more, acting as though she were a child arguing an immature point. _"It's complicated."_

"_What is so complicated about it!? People are dying and for what? Because they are handicapped, because they are unwanted, because they are Jewish!? You remember Swenja? She was Jewish! You and her brother were inseparable! Would you condemn him to his? Could you watch as they killed him?"_ Dieter was silent for a while. She could tell he was thinking about it, picturing it. Any effect was doubtful though.

"_It does not matter what I think. Please try to understand."_ Krista did not reply right away, she merely stepped further back and looked at her brother, observed his uniform and its pointless decorations. There was no point in arguing anymore; he was gone.

"_No. Understanding means accepting and that is the one thing I will not do."_ She sat down in the corner once again, certain her fate was death, and not caring.

"_Don't martyr yourself Krista."_

"_It's a few years too late for that."_ She heard her brother sigh once more and watched as he began to exit the room.

"_Dieter,"_ she started, pausing for she knew he would stop. _"I hope you die."_ No other words were exchanged but Krista knew she got through for she said it with all the love she could gather, making it the cruelest thing that would ever slip off her tongue.

Her brother continued his way out, never looking back. Words were exchanged outside the doorway and another figure entered, the man from before. The smile on his face was priceless; it was as though he had never been so happy in his life. Normally this would have concerned her but now nothing mattered. She was ready to die.

"_You think you are a noble sacrifice, don't you? That your death will resound throughout all of Germany swaying minds to this cause?"_

"_No, I am just someone who refuses to live, a soon nameless body in one of your pits, right?"_ She expected a hit, cold words, something, instead the man stepped out. Two guards took his place moving toward her with a black bag.

* * *

In the dark confinement of what must have been a closet, Krista sat staring at the door. Yes, it must have been a closet; she could feel the coats against her head. There was a crack of light at the bottom where shadows used to pace. There had been none for hours; they must have gone.

Her wrists were unbound now, as were her ankles. She knew the closet door was not locked. It seemed that her captors had made a mistake, giving her the perfect opportunity to escape. All she had to do was open the door and sneak out of the city. Germans occupied it, Krista knew this, but she also knew someone was coming; she had heard the sirens. They would be distracted. It all seemed so easy, so simple. All she had to do was reach out and freedom was hers.

Oh, but her captors were smarter than that.

They let the guards leave because they knew she would never leave the unlocked room. Her bonds were cut in order for her to hold the body. She was left in the small space to ensure no distractions. They left her alone with him, her thoughts keeping her still and locked up in the closet.

Him.

Pierre.

Now dead.

Her fault.

She held him in her lap, one hand stroked his short, black hair, and the other held the gunshot wound in his side attempting to stop the blood flow that had long ago ceased. His eyes stared endlessly into the dark closet, though she believed his eyes were on her, asking her why she had done this to him, why she had let him die.

'_He died just before we brought you here. It is strange for a man with that injury to live so long. His desire to see you again must have been strong. And while he did not see you, he did get to see those papers of yours burned. To watch the hope fade from his eyes, it was…shall I say dramatic? A theatrical performance at its best. It was quite a sight.'_

'I did not mean to. I could not stop them.'

Excuses would solve nothing, would give forgiveness to no one but that was all that crossed her mind.

'I'm sorry I got you involved.'

'I'm sorry.'

* * *

**October 1944**

**The Crossroads, Holland**

There were no eyes on her, none at all; there was no one. She was the only living being in that field, in the area. No one was around; no one would know. It would be their secret, her and the dead man's. If only that were true but for now, she thought it was. All she could see was the body. It was not facing her but somehow she knew, something deep inside told her that her 'wish' had come true.

When she reached the body, all she could do was stand there and look at it as multiple prayers ran through her mind over and over again. Seemed rather pointless going from praying for one thing to praying for its exact opposite but that was what she did; it was what she always did. So many of them, perhaps God was fed up.

Kneeling down, Krista took a deep breath. Something inside tried to pull her away, begged her to not look, to never know the truth. It would all be better that way. No, no it would not. What if it was him? She could not ask herself that question for the rest of her life. With more tears welling, she grabbed the man's coat and turned him over.

His eyes were still open, wide with panic. The blonde hair matted atop his head was stained with blood in a few places, as was his uniform, darkest where a gaping hole sat in his chest. He had no weapon with him, probably dropped a ways back, and his helmet was missing as well. There seemed no explanation except that he really did not see this attack coming. That did not matter, all that did were those eyes, wide open and obviously lifeless, tinted the same exact color as hers, holding the same expression they had when he had broken one of the windows at home. These eyes belonged to her brother, to Dieter Nimholtz, who now lay dead in his sister's arms.

She looked at Dieter, almost shocked that it was him but there was no mistaking those eyes. Her hand began to stroke his hair, just as she had done with Pierre. Another person lost, this time family. She truly was alone in the world. There were no miracles, her father was gone, probably captured and shot the day she left. She would never see him again nor would she see her mother or Pierre or her brother. Even the men she had come to know would disappear. There would be no one. They should have left her on that day; at least she would have died with some worth.

"_I take it back Dieter."_ She whispered. _"I take it back."_ Nothing she could say would give her brother life again; nothing she could do would take back those last words she said to him. All she could do was pretend it never happened though the truth sat before her.

Placing a hand over his face, Krista closed her brother's eyes for the last time. She leaned over and kissed his forehead like their mom had every time she put them to sleep. This was not just her brother gone, it was everything; this was her old life, forever gone, never coming back; all remnants destroyed. But this was the last time she would think about it. The sooner she forgot, the better. The sooner she forsook her life, the easier everything would be.

It was now Krista remembered there was a world outside her own. She did not wish to turn, did not wish to accept the fact that all eyes were upon her but she felt them. Confirming what she already knew was the least of her worries at this point.

Everyone she knew was staring at her, even the medics had taken a momentary pause to get a look at the unbelievable. She glanced at each one of them, not really caring what they thought. They were not angry, hatred had yet to fill their eyes but it was only because sheer disbelief overpowered any emotion. Her eyes fell upon Winters, his surprised cleverly covered up by a neutral look, thoughtful but stern. She knew some form of 'punishment' would be her fate, though it could be nothing worse than what she had already experienced…at least she hoped. Then again, it did not matter, nothing did.

Winters watched Krista as she turned away from him, her attention back to the man in her arms.

"Nixon, tell me there are Dutch in the SS." He did not take his eyes off her for one second, afraid she might disappear if he even blinked.

"Well Dick, I could tell you that but you know I'd be lying." Nixon replied, clearly disappointed at the truth of the statement.

"Yeah." Winters said, equally disappointed. "Sergeant Guarnere!" The normally fast acting sergeant took a little longer than usual to arrive. Winters paid little attention to the time; he only reacted when Guarnere arrived.

"Bill, you and Heffron take her back to HQ. Put her in a room; guard the door."

"Yes, sir." Guarnere did not sound too happy about being given the assignment but Winters knew what he was doing. The closer someone was to her, the less chance they would do anything to her.

Krista saw them coming out of the corner of her eye. Sliding Dieter off her lap, she stood up, taking one last look at the body, one question lingering in her mind: did he die as a Nazi or as her brother? He could not be both; she would not allow it.

She turned to them, eyes staring straight through, never hitting flesh. The serious looks the men had mustered up all but disappeared once more. Once again they became surprised, even concerned. Perhaps she had hope after all, hope of at least making it to wherever they were going in one piece.

Guarnere led the way, never turning back. He did not want to look at her. There was anger now and she knew this. Krista could not blame him. Heffron stayed behind her, his eyes constantly to the ground. He hated this but orders were orders and someone needed to do it. Krista never looked down, never looked away. This was her fate, given to her by choices made, and she was going to face it.

* * *

Heffron and Guarnere had been sitting outside the room for a couple hours. A few men had tried to relieve them but Guarnere flat out refused and Heffron decided it was best to stick around with him. No point in letting someone else get their head bit off for saying something stupid. He knew better than that.

Neither had spoken for a while, the chaos of the day still being filtered through their minds. Even without Krista things seemed completely out of control. Of course, there was only one thing that they wanted to think about at the moment. The rest of the day would hit them later.

Guarnere shifted in the silence, no longer able to keep quiet his thoughts.

"You think she's okay?"

"Hell, I don't know Bill." Heffron replied, his voice clearly touched by anger. "Does it look like I'm in there?"

"No, I guess not." He paused, looking around almost nervously. "I hope she's alright."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"Well, it's not the same anymore. I mean, that wasn't one of us out there. She was holding the enemy!" His voice seemed to echo through the hallway, silencing him instantly. Guarnere took a while to respond.

"Look, I ain't blind; I know what happened. I was there…we all were. Now I know how it looked but, geez…you saw her face. It was…dead."

Heffron snorted. "It was probably part of some trick of hers."

"Trick? Are you shittin' me? Jesus, Babe, we found her stuffed in a closet, beaten up with a dead guy in her arms. How far do you think these Germans are willing to go just to trick us?"

"I don't know, Bill, but…it just doesn't feel right."

Guarnere sighed. "Yeah, I know." He paused. "I care about what I saw, I really do… but right now I care a little bit more about what's going on with her." Without any more explanation, Guarnere opened the door and walked inside, slamming it shut before Heffron, or his conscience, could say anything to stop him.

The room was dark despite the open shades from the window nearby. Even with the lack of light, Guarnere could tell that Krista was nowhere in sight. Any other person would have thought she escaped out the window but he knew better. The most unlikely place a week ago seemed the only proper choice now.

Opening the closet doors, Guarnere scanned inside. There huddled in the corner sat Krista, her eyes completely blank, her body language all wrong. Even the most oblivious of people could tell there was something terribly wrong but helping her would be a little more complicated this time.

"I shouldn't be in here; I should be outside following my orders because apparently you're the enemy now but for some reason, all I can think about is how you're doing." Krista did not respond; it was something he should have expected.

Guarnere knelt down and looked at her, not even attracting a simple glance. "I don't even hate you right now. Care to tell me why because I have no idea." There was still nothing. It was as though she could not even hear him.

"Alright then." He said standing. Never exactly the emotional type, Guarnere was not sure what else he could do, if there was anything. Dragging Krista out of the closet and shaking her did not seem like the appropriate course of action. He would just have to wait and see what happened.

Just as he grabbed the handle of the door, life seemed to fill Krista once again.

"He was my brother." Guarnere froze, rooted to the spot as memories of his own brother came flooding back. It all made perfect sense now. "Shutzstaffel. So was my father." Now Guarnere turned. She looked at him, her eyes set in more of glare, attempted anger pulsing within, tears starting their journey down her face. "Is that what you want? Now do you hate me?"

Stunned silent for a moment, Guarnere quickly recovered. "No."

Krista closed her eyes, attempting to keep any more tears from falling. "Leave."

"What?"

"Please leave." Instead of doing what she asked, Guarnere got closer. He knelt down once again and looked at her, though she refused to look at him.

"Why?"

Krista struggled for an answer. "Because…I…I do not want you here…"

Guarnere shook his head. "Look, that may be good enough for some guys, but I want a real answer. Look me in the eye and tell me why." Though she did not want to, Krista did what he asked. Looking at him was too much for her to bear. She could no longer control her emotions.

"I do not want you to die!" She shouted, not caring who else could hear. Sirens seemed to go off in Guarnere's head. He moved quickly to embrace Krista as she began to collapse, all emotion she had held back thus far beginning to show itself for the first time. Burying her head in his chest, Krista sat like that for some time while Guarnere tightened his grip on her, afraid she was going to slip away somehow.

"They all die." Her voice was a whisper, hardly noticeable but Guarnere heard it.

"Who dies?"

"Everyone I…care about." Guarnere looked down at her but said nothing. "My mother…my brother…Pierre…my father…"

Pushing Krista upright, Guarnere looked her straight in the eye. "I ain't gonna die, alright?" She nodded, attempting to look like she believed him but it was war and no promises were guaranteed to be kept; she had been through too much to keep hoping for the best. He understood this and quickly pulled her back, letting her cry into his shoulder. Enemy or not, he could not bear to see her like this. He drew her even closer, placing his head on hers to provide any comfort that he could. Everything that he did seemed so small and useless but he had to try. It could not end like this.

* * *

Note: I know I said Froilein which is in German already, but it would not have sounded right any other way in my opinion.

And there it is. I hope I didn't get too corny at the end. Emotions are not exactly my forte. So long to Dieter and Pierre. They were great characters even to the end. I had fun writing about them but maybe they'll pop up in a random flashback. Perhaps it is not the end!

Until next time!


	12. The Truth

Hello, I have returned! Sorry it has been so long since I've updated, school has been hitting me hard. I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas. Thanks to all of you who have reviewed and have tolerated my long absences.

Please excuse any mistakes, I worked on this fast. I'll try to update faster next time.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: The Truth**

**October 1944**

**Randwijk, Holland**

If there was one wrong impression people got from Captain Winters, it was that he never lost his temper; men who were at Carentan could attest to that. The quiet, somewhat shy commander of Easy Company was the least likely to get angry, maintaining a cool head in order to think the situation out clearly, but today he was on the verge of snapping. Allowing himself to be fooled by Krista was a mistake that should have never happened. Fortunately, Colonel Sink had arrived after she was taken away so he was none the wiser to the situation. The thought, then, did not hinder him as he handed Winters the executive officer position for second battalion. That, of course, was the last thing on his mind.

The private just in front of him, Heffron, had snapped to attention and was eyeing him warily. It was then he noticed a missing body.

"Heffron, have you been here all day?"

"Yes, sir."

"Despite the relief I sent your way?"

"Yes, sir. We didn't want to leave."

"We…" he saw Heffron flinch a little. "Where is Guarnere?"

Heffron waited a few moments before answering, hoping that by some miracle the sergeant would show up, except he knew exactly where the man was and that he was not coming out anytime soon.

"He's, uh…he's in the room, sir."

Winters nodded, his assumption correct. "You're dismissed." Heffron looked at him blankly for a few moments, then began to walk away. He glanced back occasionally trying to get a hint as to what the Captain was going to do to Guarnere. It was a useless effort on his part.

Entering the room, Winters quickly shut the door. It was loud enough to wake the dozing Guarnere whom he found in the closet. The surprise on his face was to be expected as was his inability to get up for Krista was still fast asleep in his arms.

"Sir, I-″ Winters cut him off, shaking his head at the idea. He motioned him to stand. There were not many clothes in the closet, so Guarnere was able to stand straight up while still carrying Krista. He moved out slowly, careful not to hit her head on anything and placed her on the bed nearby, hurriedly thinking of an excuse but coming up with nothing.

"Sir, I, uh…I was…" Guarnere fell silent, knowing full well that whatever he said could not be believed.

"Sergeant Guarnere, you were standing outside the door as instructed when it occurred to you that there was a window in this room. Not wanting to risk her escaping, you decided it was best to keep guard inside." Winters stated, his tone unchanged.

Guarnere smiled. "Yes, sir." He quickly regained a serious face and leaned over to the Captain. "Sir, that man in the field was her brother."

Winters sighed. "I thought as much." He paused. "You can go now Guarnere; I already sent Heffron away."

"Yes sir." As Guarnere approached the door, he turned around. "Sir, what are we going to do with her?"

"I don't know."

The door did not shut immediately; Guarnere was hesitating. Winters waited patiently until he heard the door close quietly and the last of Guarnere's footsteps as they echoed down the hallway.

He looked over at the sleeping girl, Krista if that was her name. Her face was relaxed yet strained as though she were dreaming of some troubling thing. Most of the men wore that expression in their sleep. It was the mark of one who had seen war, had seen death right before their eyes. There was no getting over it, not anytime soon at least, perhaps never. One could sympathize with her.

But was that right? She was the enemy after all, wasn't she? Some men examined her brother; he was found to be a Lieutenant of sorts, in the SS of all things. She had lied to their faces about it. How could he possibly sympathize with her? She was just a spy, one with a convincing cover story…too convincing. They had found her with the dead man. Would someone really be that desperate to gain information from the Allies? Yes, Hitler was that desperate as was anyone else who loyally followed him. That was it then, she was the enemy. He would have to tell Colonel Sink and pray that he would not be demoted as fast as he ought to be.

Winters, though, could not bring himself to move, to even believe anything that he had just thought. Krista was not the enemy; it did not seem right.

What was right anymore?

While Winters sorted through the debate in his head, Krista stirred, opening her eyes slowly. She watched him as a range of emotions seemed to cross his face without actually changing it at all. She knew of the questions that plagued him and that she had to answer them at some point. She also knew that Guarnere was gone and that they were alone. There would be no hiding behind someone who was too emotionally attached and for that she was thankful. It would be too tempting with Guarnere around.

"My name _is _Krista." She spoke in a whisper, afraid that others would hear. Winters did not jump, did not seem surprised at all that she was awake.

He nodded but did not move, too torn to take the risk.

"Is that the truth?" Winters stared at the wall, not wanting to make eye contact.

Krista hesitated. There could be no more lies, not even small white ones such as her name.

She sighed. "It is Sabine…but…everyone called me Krista." She waited for him to say something, or to tense or even look angry. Winters merely nodded again, his thoughtful look prevailing over any other emotion.

Silence filled the room once again for neither knew what to say. Each felt that an explanation was necessary but had no idea where to begin. Krista sat up slowly, hoping it would prompt something from the Captain but Winters remained as motionless as ever. She would have to start; that was the only way they would get anywhere.

"May I explain…before you leave?" It was her turn to stare at the wall but out of the corner of her eye, Krista saw Winters move. "I am not the enemy."

Winters felt the relief flood his body. Despite everything, he believed her but that was not enough. He had been fooled once by her, he could not be trusted to have good judgment when it came to this.

"Please…" Krista added, knowing what his silence meant. "I will go but…I want to tell you first." She waited patiently for Winters response, knowing full well that the longer it took, the better her chances were.

There was a sigh, and then movement. Krista watched in horror as Winters reached for the door and stepped out of the room. She almost said something else but he turned in time to stop her. The look she received was reassuring, as though he were going to return. Krista had never known Winters to lie but as soon as the door shut and his footsteps ceased their echoing, she could not help but feel it was too late, that she would never have a chance to explain herself again. Fear began to trickle in; the walls seemed to shrink around her. This feeling had not been around for a while and was even more terrifying because of it. The numbness had worn off.

The return of footsteps brought a sigh of relief. Perhaps he was telling the truth after all.

Winters entered the room once again with Nixon in tow. She should have known that he was the reason Winters left. It only made sense that he would want Nixon in the room at the same time. The Captain, however, did not look as well assured as Winters did. He looked at Krista warily for a few moments before settling into a more comfortable frame of mind.

"Alright, let's start at the beginning." Winters began. "What _is_ your name?"

The situation would have been a little less awkward if the two were sitting. They seemed so intimidating from this position but this was not the time for her to get what she wanted. She deserved nothing. It could have been worse; she had to be thankful.

"My name is Sabine Krista Nimholtz." She had been facing the floor but looked up in time to see a stunned look of recognition on Nixon's face.

He walked forward. "Are you related to General Nimholtz?"

Krista nodded. "Yes, General Wilhelm Nimholtz is my father." Nixon's jaw seemed to drop to the ground.

"Christ, Dick, General Nimholtz is one of Hitler's top military advisors." They backed away now, looking Krista over with a new found anger that managed to seep its way through all of the confusion. There was distrust now and the two seemed ready to leave right then and there.

"He died back in '42, didn't he?" Winters whispered, not wishing any bit of this information to escape the room.

"Yeah, his headquarters took a direct hit from an Allied bombing run."

Krista's laughter interrupted any conversation that was about to ensue. The two men looked at her again, confusion at the breaking point. This girl's story had been crazy enough before, how much more could there be?

Calming herself down, Krista looked at them, a new found joy now within her heart. "Is that what they said?" Nixon nodded, wary once again.

Another giggle escaped her throat before she continued. "I guess it is better than the truth."

Winters kneeled down to look Krista in the eye. "What is the truth?" Her happiness was soon replaced by a sad, longing look as the memories returned. Nixon knelt down too, concerned by the sudden change in her mood.

"My father…he…he tried to…kill Hitler…" She continued without bothering to look at their faces, believing that if the story was stopped now, it may never pick up again. "I do not know how…but he…he sent me away…I met Pierre then…he was supposed to protect me. My brother, Dieter, he…he would have done anything to…to stop my father. Maybe he did…"

"Your father tried to assassinate Hitler?" Nixon asked, astonished, not really looking for an answer. He just needed to hear those words put together which did not make it any more believable. "I saw a film. They showed the funeral of General Nimholtz, giving him top military honors."

Winters nodded, understanding now. "They didn't want the rest of the world to think that the Third Reich was about to be destroyed from the inside. It's a sign of weakness."

Krista nodded as well. "We are not all like Hitler…some are too afraid to speak…anyone who does is…silenced." Her shiver seemed to send shockwaves through the room. "I did help the Resistance…then Pierre took me here." Her story ceased as the memories returned. The pistol pointed up, it fired and a body crashed to the floor. The red stain of his blood found its way to her clothes again, its questions returning once more to torture her soul.

It was only when Winters clasped his hands on her arms that Krista realized she was shaking. She looked up at the concerned faces before her and could not help but collapse into an emotional heap once again.

"He shot him!" The tears poured down once again. "Dieter…he…he shot…they took me and…tortured me, said I…betrayed Germany…the officer…he…he cut me…he smiled." She paused, picturing the man's face and the cruel happiness it bore. "He enjoyed it." Krista stopped, letting the images flow by, waiting for them to end. If she ignored them long enough, perhaps they would leave her be.

She was shaking again but this time it was not her fault. The tremors came from the hands of Winters as he tried to calm himself. Nixon was standing now, his hands clenched into fists, nails burrowing deep into his skin. Guilt made its way into Krista's heart. She had gone too far. They did not need to know the details; there was enough on their minds already. This only made them feel sorry for her, made it easier for her to convince them of her innocence but she did not want it to be easy. Nothing should be easy but for some reason these men always believed her. It was something that she could not become thankful for because she was not innocent and only she realized that.

Winters let her go, realizing that he was no longer helping. He stood as well, hands instantly curling into fists. Krista watched them with almost fascination as she watched them inwardly attempt to calm themselves. She pulled her knees close, wrapping her arms around them as she waited for some kind of verdict; her story was done. Forcing the sick feeling in her stomach to calm down, she watched them again, this time warily. Nixon was the first to speak.

"I think we should step out of the room." Winters nodded in agreement. He did not want Krista involved in any part of this conversation, nor did he want her look to sway it.

Krista watched the men leave, unafraid this time for she had been given the chance to explain. Whatever they decided, she knew that she more than deserved it.

* * *

Nixon and Winters did not speak to each other as they walked down the hallway, its close quarters filled with too many listeners for this conversation. They waited until the relative sanctuary of the outdoors before the long debate began.

"So, what are we going to do?" Nixon asked as he put on his cover. The two briskly walked past the porch where Krista often sat with Trigger, the latter, seemingly in tune with the feeling around the small town, worriedly sat near the door as though waiting for an explanation.

"Well Nix, I suppose we could start with: do you believe her?"

Nixon almost scoffed at being asked such a question. "Of course I believe her, Dick. You saw the look on her face; who could fake that?"

"There are plenty of actors who could." Winters stated, not disagreeing with Nixon, just merely curious as to why else he believed her.

"Alright, let's look at the other evidence. She has been tortured, that is fairly obvious, there is no faking that. Someone would have to be crazy to go through that on purpose and frankly I believe Krista is the sanest person here. Besides, who would go through all the trouble to stick themselves in a closet, with a dead man, that someone _might_ look in _if_ the Allies go through the town? It's too coincidental to be true."

The corners of Winters' mouth had started to rise during his friend's little tirade. "Alright Nix, I got it. You believe her. Is there any chance I could get you to repeat that to Colonel Sink?"

Nixon sighed. "Give him a couple of drinks and I might have a snowball's chance in hell at convincing him." It was true, much to their disappointment. Even if Colonel Sink could get past the fact that they had hidden this girl from him, brought her without his permission, how could they convince the man that the daughter of a Nazi general was on their side? The only reason Krista had ever had a chance was because they knew her and they knew what she had been through; Sink knew none of it.

Their gait slowed as the situation became more helpless. Winters looked up at the sky, its dark mood reflecting that of his own.

"Yeah…even with Sink on our side, there's no chance anyone else would believe us." At this point the two had stopped walking, thinking over their shrinking options.

"Does Colonel Sink even know?"

"No, she was gone before he arrived and I doubt any of the men would have told him."

"Is there anyone besides Easy Company that know?"

Winters knew where this was heading, though it seemed bleak as well. "No…there isn't."

"Then can't it just go back to the way it was?" Nixon looked over at a group of men nearby. "They don't look like they'd hate her." Winters looked at the men as well. They sat on cargo boxes, attempting to concentrate on the poker game before them. Included were Luz and Liebgott, the most distracted of the group. They did not seem angry, in fact they looked depressed, as though a member had just died. The others had various dismal looks but none as deep as theirs. There seemed to be a chance in this but it also seemed too good to be true.

"They may not now but the minute they see her, all they'll see is her holding the dead SS lieutenant. It won't make much difference then."

"You can't let her explain?"

"I don't want to take the chance of anyone else finding out about this. Things are complicated enough."

"Well, Dick, it's either that or she ends up in some interrogation room in Washington while we find ourselves demoted to buck private."

Winters sighed, gripping the bridge of his nose. This was far too much for one girl; the war seemed less complex, at least someone trained you for that.

"Alright, we'll explain it to them one platoon at a time as they return from the line and make sure that Guarnere stays. She is going to need someone else on her side."

A silence fell between the two as they thought over all of the things they were about to risk for one girl, one who could very well still be lying to them. If this plan did not work, they would be stuck; there would be nothing else they could do. They only hoped that each of the men had gotten to know Krista and that somehow they could forgive her.

* * *

Krista almost wished she had been handed over as a prisoner of war. She stood in the barn that only a few hours before had been full of people that accepted her, people who had believed she was Dutch. Now it was filled with men who were fairly certain she was German and the enemy. She could feel their hatred even through the closed door; she peeked out it every now and again, making her heart only sink further.

Closing the door once again, Krista turned around and began to walk away. "I cannot do this." Guarnere quickly caught her, his grip tight and unwavering. Though only given the full story a few minutes before, he was quick to accept it, ready to believe anything that excused her from being the enemy.

"Yes you can, Krista. This is the only chance you've got. Take it now or you might be on the run again." Krista stopped her struggle against his hold as she thought of the latter statement. It was hard enough before but now she would be on her own, in the midst of a war, enemy to everyone. She shuddered at the thought but was still fearful of the task ahead.

"Why do you believe me?" Guarnere moved his grip to her arms, steadying her shaking body, forcing her to look up at him and reveal the genuine fear in her eyes. After everything she had been through with them, never before had she looked so scared. It was rejection that she feared most, not death, not after begin exposed to it for so long. It was the thought of being hated by the people she had come to care for that made her tremble.

The look in his eyes softened. "I can't really explain it. There is just something about you that tells me you aren't capable of being the enemy. You don't look like the type of person who could pull off being a spy; you're too emotional. I mean, c'mon, look at yourself…you're a mess."

The corners of her mouth lifted slightly. "Is that supposed to help?"

"It got you to smile, didn't it?" Krista's smile grew but faltered quickly into uncertainty. Guarnere drew her close, wrapping his arms around her in a hug that she soon embraced. "Don't worry kid, everything's gonna be fine. If anyone even looks at you funny, I'll deck them." Krista began to shake again, this time from laughter. Over the time that she had been with Easy, she had come to know many of their words and could easily guess what 'deck' meant.

Guarnere smiled. "Now that's more like it."

Krista began to relax, laying her head on Guarnere's chest and letting him rest his head on hers. She wished it could stay like this; her life seemed less lonely this way but the happy moment was short lived as footsteps began to approach them. Guarnere pulled away, his body stiffening as he did so, going into the position that men called 'attention.' Krista watched him, noting the red tinge that colored his cheeks, and could not help but notice that she felt slightly warmer than usual.

Winters and Nixon appeared from another hallway, the former holding a serious look but Nixon looked as though he were about to laugh. The red on Guarnere's face deepened. Krista took this as a good time to examine her shoes.

"At ease, Guarnere." Winters spoke casually as he looked out the door at the gathered platoon. The faces in the crowd could be associated with either some form of anger or sadness, not very encouraging but better than he had hoped for. "This had better work." He looked over at Krista who had gained enough courage to face people again. "Are you ready?"

Krista glanced at Guarnere, sighed then nodded. If not now then when?

Winters nodded as well, pushing the door open all the way. Whatever remained of her confidence soon shattered and Krista found herself unable to move. Guarnere nudged her at first and when that did not work, he all but pushed her out the door, forcing her to meet what she should have expected all along: hatred. Several faces filled with that emotion as soon as she appeared; others seemed to sink into a more dismal look than before. A few did not know what to think, choosing the ground instead.

She examined the room quickly, instantly identifying it as second platoon. She knew most of the men here which gave her a better chance. Luz and Malarkey sat in the front, smoking cigarettes, watching her without letting any emotions show. Toye sat near the back, watching Guarnere as he walked out, perhaps questioning his sanity. Heffron sat next to him, the most confused out of the group, smoking his cigarette in quick puffs, unsure of how to react. Liebgott held almost a look of resentment, making her stomach heave; he had been one of her closest friends.

She wanted to leave, that very instant if she could. There was no chance for her here. No one was going to believe her; they had already made their decision.

Her eyes fell upon the face of Roe, the calmest person in the entire room. His eyes held a certainty that reassured her. Out of everyone, it was him that had been with her the most. He believed her. The enemy would not have helped out like she had, he was positive about that.

"Most of you were at the crossroads today and if you weren't, I'm sure you've been told about what happened out there." Winters started, looking over the crowd as well. Krista had not even noticed him standing next to her. "I'm going to make it clear now before any gossip ruins it: that man in the field was her brother." There were several murmurs. "Over the past couple weeks, most of us have come to know this girl as Krista, the prisoner we rescued in Nuenen, an innocent victim of the Nazis. That has not changed; in fact it is even truer than ever. Captain Nixon, Sergeant Guarnere and I have chosen to believe her story. All we ask is that you listen to her explanation." With that, Winters stepped aside, leaving Krista alone to face the men. She took a deep breath and began her story.

It was hard to tell whether or not the men believed her at first, fear clouded her vision so much. Most of the time she kept her head down, choosing to look at the feet of the men in front of her instead. She could hear little conversations in the background as men discussed the unbelievable. There was also the shuffling of feet and awkward coughs. Behind her, Guarnere's foot tapped impatiently. No doubt he was glaring at anyone whose face did not look just right. Thankful was an understatement when it came to him.

When Krista finished, she stepped back, unsure of what to do next. Winters nodded, motioning with his head that she could sit. She did so instantly, plopping next to Guarnere on a bench nearby.

"You did good." He whispered, giving her hand a quick squeeze. She tried to look reassured, which was a failed attempt at best.

The room sat silent for the better part of a minute while men quickly went over the facts in their heads. It felt like eternity. Someone near the back decided to speak up.

"Why should we believe her?" It was a voice she did not recognize but it hurt nonetheless. She bit her lip in order to stop it from trembling. Guarnere tensed up next to her, ready to hold true to his promise.

"Because she saved my life." Krista looked up. It was Liebgott, the least sure of all of them; he was standing up for her. She could not help but smile at him which he returned with no trace of hatred or uncertainty. "I don't know about the rest of you guys, but I don't think a Nazi would do that. She's been to hell and back with us, the least we can do is give her a chance." More murmurs, some more lighthearted than others.

Luz stood up, a smile on his face as well. "You know, the only person she actually hates is Lieutenant Peacock and I think I can speak for all of us when I say: that's not too strange." Laughter filled several parts of the room. Even Winters wore a smile though he threw a disapproving look in Luz's direction.

Malarkey now took his turn. "Yeah, she's gotten close to most of us, some more than others-″ Despite the positive turn of events, Guarnere still glared at Malarkey. "-and I don't think anyone could fake that." Several forms of agreement could be heard from the crowd.

Winters stood, silencing everyone. "All those in favor of keeping Krista in Easy Company?" Hands shot up instantly, some not so fast but were still in agreement. The few that did not go up were watched closely by both Guarnere and Toye, assuring Krista that the sergeant believed her as well.

Winters could not help but grin; Nixon did not bother to hide it. "Alright then, second platoon you're dismissed." Half of the room stood up and walked toward Krista, their warmth kind and genuine. She could not have asked for more. Krista quickly embraced most of them in a hug, mumbling several forms of thanks to each one of them.

"You really believe me?" She asked, unable to help it.

"Of course we do." Luz replied. "Besides, you'd have to be a fool not to vote to keep a woman in the company." Krista laughed. Everything seemed better now, back to the way it was. It finally felt as though fate was going to take it easier on her, as though she had been dealt enough for one lifetime. Her confidence had returned; she felt certain that the other platoons would be just as convinced.


	13. The Stupid Things in Life

Hello everyone! I told you I would get this chapter out faster. First semester at school has finally ended. I am now onto better and easier things. Hello creative writing and drawing! WHOO!!!!

Note: Seeing as how I do not really know who Winters' replacement was, I just made up my own which is probably best. He ended up being a little bit of a combination of Sobel and Dike because I just lack originality like that.

This chapter is, well I guess you could call it a filler. It's just a bunch of random little stories all rolled into one.

Hope you like it!

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: The Stupid Things in Life**

**October 1944**

**Randwijk, Holland**

Her assumption had been correct. The other platoons reacted just as second had, with even greater fervor surprisingly. Webster had not been among them. As one of the wounded, he had been transported out before Krista had a chance to speak with him. She was not even certain that he knew. It hurt her to think that he still thought of her as the innocent Dutch girl with nothing to hide. Speaking with him would be difficult but she would deal with that when the time came.

With the questions of her loyalty now gone, Krista was free to think of other pressing issues, such as that of her brother. She had no idea where his body may have been stowed; frankly she did not wish to know. Torn between the anger of what he did and the sadness of what no longer existed, Krista opted to mourn the part of her brother she still loved and knew: that goofy boy that would dance and sing with her back when everything was alright, unacceptable but happy. Her thoughts did not remain on him long, the company of the men slowly wearing them away as they had done to Pierre. She was forgetting, or perhaps storing it away for later when the tasks of war could no longer occupy her. What she would do then was a question that plagued her every night.

Things were changing for Easy Company. Young men arrived daily, fresh from basic, ready to fill the positions of those killed or wounded. The veterans grumbled continually, sick of having to train them or worse, having to be trained with them as though they knew nothing. It was better than combat, there was no doubt there, but they could all think of several other things that they all would rather be doing. The replacement for Winters arrived as well, a lieutenant from another company; he went by Harrison, or so she thought. Krista did not care much for the man; neither did anyone else in Easy.

"The man is a first class pain in the ass." Guarnere said, pointing out the obvious, as he lit up a cigarette. Most of the room's occupants nodded in agreement, too caught up in what they were doing to continue with the point. "I mean, I've seen a lot of bad officers in my day but this one takes the cake."

"Except for Sobel." Bull added, chewing down on his cigar. He along with Perconte and Liebgott were playing, and quickly losing, a game of poker with Krista, who wore a smug look on her face, satisfied with the results. She was a quick learner much to the men's surprise and disappointment.

"Except for Sobel." Guarnere echoed, climbing into the nearest bunk.

"He was just assigned to the company; give the guy a chance to adjust." The entire room looked over at the back corner where First Sergeant Lipton was trying to get some decent sleep for the first time in days.

"The one guy on his side is the one who should hate him the most." Bull mused, placing down his hand. "Fold." Krista reached for her winnings, taking time to appreciate the hopeless looks on the others' faces.

Talbert, who sat near the table tossing a stick casually to Trigger, nodded. "Things sure are backwards in this company."

Ever since Winters was promoted, it had seemed like that in Easy. The new commander rarely did anything he was expected to do unless finally forced to by necessity. In fact, he did not do much of anything save for sleeping to unheard of late hours while the company drilled outside. This left the other officers with extra work on their shoulders and in turn made Lipton have to do the rest.

"How would you feel after just entering? We've known each other for a couple years. This guy has had a few days." Lipton argued weakly, not really in the mood for it.

"So did Buck, remember?" Perconte said as he dealt a new hand. "He turned out alright."

"Yeah, he got to know us. This guy is doing everything he can to avoid us." Liebgott lit a cigarette, thinking.

Guarnere nodded. "Face it Lip, the guy's an asshole. Even Krista hates him. That has to mean something." Lipton was about to reply when the man that they were talking about, Lieutenant Harrison, walked in. All the men stood up, not in the mood to get on the wrong side of him. Trigger cautiously made his way over to Krista, growling all the while. Even Lipton had a smirk on his face as he did so, sharing the dog's general opinion of the man.

"Ah, Sergeant Lipton, here you are." Harrison said walking over to him, ignoring Trigger's reaction for he had already gotten used to it. If the man had not been moving so fast, Lipton might have rolled his eyes. He knew what was coming.

"A new group of replacements is coming in today. I'll need you to fill them in."

"Yes sir."

"And tell everyone that the inspection for tomorrow is canceled." Harrison actually had a hint of a smile on his face. "I have some other…business to attend to."

"Sir." Lipton began to walk away, not even bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice. Krista gave him a sympathetic look as he left to get to work once again. He had not gotten much sleep at all, like Roe, except this was all because of something unnecessary.

Guarnere mumbled something unintelligible under his breath. Sure, a break from inspections was nice and all but if the new lieutenant could not get his ass moving for something as simple as that, how was he supposed to lead the men in combat? With a leader like this, Easy's future was circling the drain.

Harrison turned to face Krista who had begun to eye him suspiciously. She was curious as to what he did while Lipton and other men were doing his work. Everyone else felt the same way; they had started another pool.

It was as though he had just noticed she was there.

"Oh, Miss, uh…Krista, what are you doing here?" She looked at the faces of the men and shrugged, deciding the truth would do.

"Taking their money." A couple men suddenly came down with a cough.

"Yes, I can see that. Why?" Krista was confused. Why on earth would this man care about how she spent her time?

"Because I can." It seemed the only appropriate answer.

"Well, don't you have some patients to tend to or maybe some laundry?" Krista's eyes narrowed. She could feel the room cringe.

"No." She managed to reply through gritted teeth. Harrison seemed to gain some form of pleasure from this.

"Oh…but there must be something else you can do around here. Why else would they keep you?" Her fists were clenched tightly in an attempt to hold back the anger and hatred inside. She glanced quickly at Trigger. He took a step back as though ready to launch himself at the lieutenant, baring his teeth as he did so. How she would love to see the look on his face if Trigger did attack.

Bull spoke up in attempt to get Harrison off of her back. "It's complicated, sir."

"Of course it is." He looked over each of the men in the room, all still at attention but each holding their own look of warning. "Well, perhaps I could come up with something for you to do here instead of creating a bankruptcy situation for the Army…Can you cook?" It was a rhetorical question that fulfilled its intended effect. As soon as Harrison stepped out the door, Krista tried to run after him, fists flying, sputtering random phrases in German. Fortunately for the lieutenant, both Liebgott and Perconte grabbed Krista though even they were almost not enough for her.

"Hey Liebgott, care to translate?" Guarnere asked, amusement reflected in his eyes and voice.

"Not really." Liebgott replied, surprised by Krista's choice of words. She did not seem the type.

Krista soon settled down, taking her seat at the table. Trigger, despite his best efforts, could not escape the clutches of Talbert to attack Harrison. He put his head on Krista's lap and looked up at her apologetically.

She patted him reassuringly. "Next time."

"If anyone needed some kind of confirmation, there you go." Guarnere stated, breaking the short silence that had fallen.

"Peacock would be better." Krista mumbled still paying attention to Trigger.

"There's an unfortunate truth." Talbert replied watching the door.

Perconte nodded. "At least he tries."

"Yeah but Harrison brings up a good question." Liebgott added. Everyone looked over at him, questioning how the word 'good' could be used in the same sentence as 'Harrison' if it did not precede 'riddance.'

He looked over at Krista. "_Can _you cook?" She did not bother resisting the urge to throw something at him and no one bothered to stop her.

* * *

A few days past and it appeared that Harrison's cooking threat had fallen through. That did not make him any better in Krista's eyes, or anyone else's for that matter. He continued his seeming boycott of the position, refusing to do anything more than an occasional order. No one knew where he was half the time and the other half he was shut up in his room. Despite how terrible the situation appeared, the men were all rather fortunate. There had been no major offensives as of late, giving them all a well deserved break but this only gave them more time to think about what could go wrong with Harrison in command.

Krista was found with a different group of men every day as the platoons took turns watching the line. With each change came a new set of possible scenarios for the lieutenant, whether it be what would happen in combat or before then. The men were annoyed, wishing they could take things into their own hands; they never would but thinking about it helped pass the time.

Hearing all of these things nearly drove Krista over the edge. The thought of any of the men losing their lives because of one man's incompetence was appalling. Someone had to do something.

Sitting outside of Battalion Headquarters, Krista could not help but shake her head. This was ridiculous, poking around in everyone else's business. In fact, that was all she had done since joining Easy Company, all the while keeping her own life a secret for others to guess at. She thought that what she was doing was good but what if it was not? Not everything she did would turn out the way it should be. For all she knew, the next man to command Easy could be worse though she could not see how that was possible.

Deciding that what she was about to do was childish and ill-advised, Krista began to stand only to have the door next to her open. She froze; too late.

Winters stepped out of his office a little surprised but obviously happy to see Krista. He led her inside making a quick glance up and down the hallway to make sure no suspicious eyes saw. The last thing he needed was to explain her story again.

His office was dark and dreary, much like the rest of the building but it was warm. Headquarters had found itself occupying what appeared to be an old orphanage. Many found it eerie, choosing to do their work in other parts of the town but it did get the job done.

"I have not seen you." Krista mumbled as she sat in the chair across from his desk. She struggled to think of what to say next seeing as how she did not even know how to begin an argument to fire a man. Finding herself a little flushed, she decided to watch the floor.

Winters ignored her strange greeting, taking it as normal.

He sighed. "It's going to be that way from now on. I'm not in charge of Easy anymore, there are two other companies I have to look after, not that I don't miss it. That was the best job I ever had."

Winters sat down, a longing look on his face which soon melted into frustration as he glanced over the contents of his desk: dozens of folders containing numerous papers about things that he did not care for but had to get finished with soon. The only other injury possibility for him in this war would be writer's cramp. He let another sigh escape.

"Are you not happy?' Krista asked, a small smile making itself known. Somehow she found this as good news.

"It's like they promoted me for my penmanship. All I do is sit here all day and sign papers. I've lost count of how many paper cuts I've gotten." He paused, listening to Krista's stifled laughter. How pathetic he must have looked complaining about this but he was. He could not help it; he was bored out of his mind.

Winters laughed a little too, if only to get rid of the awkwardness he felt. "Alright, enough about me, what's going on with Easy?" So much for getting out of this situation. That was what she got.

"Nothing…really." Krista replied after a bit, not knowing how else to phrase her answer. Winters nodded, understanding completely. He even had a hint of a smile on his face.

"A lot of bored men on the lines, huh?" She did not respond, choosing to watch all the different emotions play on his face instead. He truly missed being with the men. Krista knew what it was like to be cooped up inside while watching the world exist beyond the imprisoning walls. It was something that she never wanted to experience ever again. She could understand his longing for freedom even during a war. It never faded no matter what the circumstances.

Winters snapped out of his daze. "So what about you? The lack of combat has to have left a lot of down time for you as well."

Krista smiled, thinking of all that she had been able to do with the men. "They taught me…poker." Winters' eyes widened slightly, immediately interested. "I take their money."

Winters nodded, shaking a little. "Well, they deserve it." He paused. "How much have you won?"

"I do not know." All that she did know was that there were a lot of dollar bills tucked under a mattress somewhere.

"Perhaps that's best. Don't want you getting cocky." He looked at Krista, watching the smug look resurface. "I guess it's too late for that. Maybe I shouldn't have let you stay; they've tainted you." Krista began to laugh, knowing full well that what he said was only meant to be funny but still a sick feeling tried to emerge as she thought of being shipped away. Shaking it off, she waited for Winters to continue.

"How's my replacement doing?" Her smile quickly flipped. She should have known he would ask about this.

Winters frowned as well. "Not too good, I'm assuming." Krista shook her head. "I guess he is as incompetent as the gossip makes him out to be."

"You know?"

He nodded. "Just because I'm stuck in this room doesn't mean I'm completely blind to what's going on. I hear things, mostly from Nixon but I'm certain he tells a fairly accurate tale."

Krista silently agreed. There was no way to lie about this man, not that anyone would even attempt it.

"He is a useless…jerk." She started, unable to hold back her thoughts about Harrison. "He does nothing…Lipton works hard; he gets no sleep. Harrison…he does no…inspections." Winters watched the papers on his desk as she spoke, thinking about everything he had been told about the lieutenant thus far. None of it was ever good save for the fact that the men enjoyed the lack of inspections. He had not understood why someone from a different battalion had to be brought in. there were officers in Easy that were qualified to do the job, guaranteed better than Harrison but the man came recommended…somehow.

"Can you…" Krista paused, trying to think of a proper word. "…get rid of him?"

"No, I can't. You'd think a promotion would give me some more power but it doesn't. I'm just the pencil pusher around here. Even if I did have some authority, it still wouldn't work. I'm too attached to Easy Company. I'd have to go through Major Strayer." Krista struggled to understand what Winters was saying but the first sentence was all she really needed. He could not get rid of Harrison. She had came for nothing.

"I shouldn't even be talking to you about this." Winters continued. He could not believe he was actually discussing demoting a man with Easy Company's German nurse/fugitive. "Maybe you should go." He began to grab at some folders on his desk, shuffling through papers he had been avoiding for the past few days, trying to look busy. Krista just watched him, at a loss for words but somehow determined not to leave. She inwardly wondered what could possibly be on those papers and why they were so important, if only to stall.

"He is asleep." Krista murmured, not expecting it to get her any results but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Winters freeze, a paper halfway lifted to his face.

"Right now?" She nodded. He looked at his watch. It was noon. Winters smiled and Krista could have sworn that she saw a light bulb click on. He stood quickly and was almost out the door before Krista could ask what was going on.

"What is it?"

Winters did not turn around. "Major Strayer is in his office!" For a short time after he left, Krista sat mulling over what had just happened. When it suddenly clicked, she could not help but smile as well.

* * *

Krista sat outside another office, specifically Major Strayer's, gleefully listening to the sound of verbal abuse within. Every now and then his voice would hit a higher octave, causing her to jump. It only made her smile even more.

Captain Winters was in the office as well, no doubt enjoying the proverbial beating as much as Krista only he got to see Harrison's reaction. The sight of him alone made it difficult to maintain a straight face; it did not help that Major Strayer looked funny when he got angry.

Footsteps approached from the end of the hallway. Krista was too distracted by the conversation to pay them much attention. Their owner sat on a bench across from her, taking in every word that escaped the room, which was most.

"What's going on in there?" Krista turned to the visitor, a very curious Nixon, and smiled.

"You have to be the most incompetent, pathetic excuse for an officer I have ever seen! We are in the middle of a war and here you are sleeping it away!"

"Krista…did you get someone fired?" Nixon asked, sounding pleased as he did so. Nodding rather quickly, Krista smiled again, mouth wider than thought possible. Laughing, Nixon stood up and shook her hand. "I was wondering when you'd get around to it."

Her smile faded slightly out of confusion. "When?"

"None of the men were going to speak up. Last time they did that, Colonel Sink called it treason. Winters doesn't know much stuck behind that desk of his. You're the only person who can make any real change which is funny when you think about it."

Krista ignored the jab. "What about you?"

"Me?" Nixon sat back, mocking astonishment. "I'm the Intelligence Officer. If I bring in a report about Harrison, the brass will get curious about what I've been up to."

"What have you been up to?"

A wry smile appeared. "None of your business."

The door opened, causing Nixon to stand. Only Harrison and Winters exited. The former, looking more than shaken, took his walk of shame down the hallway most likely heading to another room to wait for his official punishment. Winters shut the door then turned to the two, maintaining a serious façade until the lieutenant was out of sight. He then broke into a satisfied grin.

"How was it?" Nixon asked.

"Enjoyable. Soldiers shake less in front of the enemy."

"What's Strayer doing now?"

"Calling Colonel Sink to ask how a boneheaded lieutenant like Harrison could get into such a position."

Krista matched Winters' smile. "How did you do it?"

"Harrison failed to reschedule the inspection and one was required to be done." A look entered his eyes that was very similar to Guarnere's. "So I did it for him, then I merely suggested that Major Strayer should watch Easy Company in action, see what Colonel Sink saw. We arrived at the field and found everyone but Harrison. The Major stormed into his room and literally yanked the boy out of his bed. It didn't matter that an inspection had been scheduled today without his knowledge because of the fact that he had never done one before…and because he was passed out like a drunken man." Nixon softly applauded his friend but Krista gave him a look.

"I am…tainted?"

"What I did was for the benefit of the company. You have the opposite effect." Krista's look deepened; Nixon's smile grew.

"Hey Krista, get to know the term: hypocrite."

Winters rolled his eyes. "Don't you have something better to do with your time, Nix?"

"Don't you have some papers to sign?" Winters opened his mouth to reply but quickly shut it again. Nixon laughed at his win. "C'mon Krista, let's leave Dick to his desk work. I'm sure there are plenty of men who want to hear the good news." Krista smiled at Winters then turned to follow, leaving the captain to sit in defeat so soon after his small victory. He did not care. It had been the best day since he got promoted.

* * *

With the departure of Lieutenant Harrison, the mood in Easy Company seemed to lift. Inspections made their return but most men did not mind. If it meant that things were becoming normal once again, they would gladly accept it. Lipton did; he was granted a couple days off allowing him to get a full night's sleep for the first time in a while.

Lieutenant Fred 'Moose' Heyliger took over. He was the commander that everyone had hoped for and deserved. Not only did he do the inspections, he also visited the men on the line and took time at the outposts. He made sure all of the men's needs were tended to before he even thought of his own. Winters could finally be certain that Easy Company was in good hands, though the lack of worrying only made his position seem even more boring.

The sun was shining for the first time in a few days. Krista sat outside with Trigger, reading, attempting to soak up as much as she could before the clouds prevailed once again. The other day Luz had come across a small study in one of the abandoned houses. Scattered throughout were books of various languages, mostly German, one of which he picked up and gave to Krista. He waited a little nervously to find out what he had actually given her. It turned out to be a romance novel of sorts which filled Luz with relief almost immediately. He could not imagine what it would have been like if the book had not been as innocent as it seemed. Krista found his nervousness sweet. It was that very book he gave her that she read now. It had definitely hooked her. The romance was simple and comedic, a small little haven from the war ravaged reality.

She had grabbed a couple chairs from the house nearby and stretched herself out across them. Trigger sat by the chair, resting his head on her lap, reading the pages as she did. He looked a little bored with the book.

Warm and relaxed, Krista put the book down, holding her spot by placing it on Trigger's head, not that he minded. Resting her arms behind the back of her head, she looked up at the deep blue sky, taking in all the joy that sight gave. A month ago she could have hated it but now she was thankful for it. The sun did not shine because it was blind to all that happened below it. No, it shined because it did know. The warmth of its rays brought comfort to men, if not hope.

She softly laughed to herself at the childish feel of the thought, though it was most certainly true. If only every day could feel like this. How her life would be different then.

Her small grin disappeared at the thought. Did she want it to be different? Even after all of the terrible things she had been through, she somehow managed to find contentment even in the midst of war. The men she had come to know would die for her and her for them even after finding out her secret. No one closer could ever be found outside the battlefield. Why must the greatest things come at the most painful prices? So one could appreciate them better seemed the proper answer.

No, she decided, she would not change anything. This was what life had given her and she would stick with it, not that there was any chance to change it anyway but from now on she would not dwell on the possibility. Despite everything it could have been worse for her. She had to count her blessings before they disappeared.

Trigger sat up, nearly dropping the book to the ground until Krista caught it. He began to growl, giving a menacing look to something in the distance. Following his gaze, Krista saw nothing.

"What? Is Harrison back?" She asked, allowing herself a small giggle. Whatever became of the man, she did not know but it had to have been something satisfying.

Trigger continued to growl, throwing some barks in with it. This alarmed her. He never did that unless it was something serious.

"What, Trigger? What is it?" He tried to leap away but Krista grabbed his collar, holding on to him for dear life as he continued to threaten the incoming…something.

"If it is a cat…" she mumbled trying to pull him back to the chairs. Trigger was stronger though and was quickly winning the fight.

A humming noise soon caught the attention of Krista. She looked to where Trigger was headed once again and noticed a small figure moving toward them at an awfully fast pace. Dumbstruck, Krista let Trigger go but he remained in his spot, suddenly uninterested in chasing after it. He would wait for the object to come to him, whatever it was.

As it came closer, the outline became more familiar. There was clearly a person on top, gripping handles as though it were a bike. Then it clicked.

It was a motorbike.

She smiled at the memory of those. Her brother nearly knocked his front teeth out trying to ride one. Arick, on the other hand, had mastered it. He could be found performing random tricks in the streets to impress the girls, though the only one he was out to get remained skeptical.

A frown took over. Why could the memories not stop? All they managed to do was make her more depressed. How she wished she could forget them but then again, she could not. Who would she be without them? This left her at a standstill, one that could only be healed by the passing of time which some days was what she feared most.

The bike came closer and its driver was now recognizable. Sighing, Krista put her hands on her hips. She should have known.

Guarnere, Wild Bill, Gonorrhea or whatever they called him slowed down as he got closer, taking in the full extent of Krista's annoyed disposition. It was like the sister observing the new idiotic, immature trick that her little brother managed to pull. Guarnere enjoyed every bit of it, confirming inside that everything would be alright.

"Hey Krista, look what I found." He said stopping just in front of her. "A kr-German motorcycle." He flinched slightly at the mistake he almost made but Krista brushed it off. At least he tried.

"I see." She gave it an onceover. "Why?" Trigger stepped forward, officially quiet, and gave it a good sniff. He backed away quickly, not liking the smell attached to it. He strode off to look for Talbert or anyone that would throw him a stick.

"Why?" Guarnere echoed. "Because it's boring as hell out here. I'm a city guy stuck in the middle of farmland. I'm dying out here!"

She sighed, not approving of the words he used. "It is not safe."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you but nothing is safe anymore. If I get hurt on this thing it might just be the best thing that has happened to me this war." Now Krista crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows, not convinced. "Don't do that. You remind me of my sister."

"Good. Will you stop?"

"Nope." Guarnere replied gaining an evil look in his eyes. "Care for a ride?"

Krista paused. Although she did long for a ride, it would not be with him. He only reminded her more of her brother.

"No, I must go to…the aid station."

Guarnere smiled knowing the excuse would not get her out of it. "Well, that's on the other side of town. I could give you a lift."

"No."

"It'll get you there faster." Krista turned around, threatening to walk away.

"No."

"Oh, c'mon, I'll drive slow." She sighed again, standing still as though debating. Knowing Guarnere he would not drive slowly and the ride just might kill her but knowing herself, she would probably enjoy it. Better to die having fun than any other way.

Krista turned around taking in Guarnere's widened smile. She nodded and slowly moved closer to the motorcycle. At this point it almost looked intimidating, ready to deal out her fate at a moment's notice.

Guarnere watched her approach, enjoying her reaction immensely. He balanced on the bike as though it were nothing. Dieter had not been so lucky. Awkwardly, Krista climbed onto it, feeling her cheeks redden as she did so. She could hear Guarnere chuckling to himself so she hit him in response. This only made it more difficult for him to stop. When it did subside, he looked back at her.

"Now you have two options: you can either attempt to hang on to the back or you can hang on securely to me."

Krista sat back on the bike, taking her time on purpose, watching the man suspiciously. "Which do you want?"

"Well, in all honesty, I wouldn't want to risk you falling off so I'd suggest that you hold on to me but then again, it's your choice." She knew that holding onto Guarnere would only be an invitation for him to drive more recklessly but then again, her balance tended to be terrible so she would probably fall off no matter what.

Giving up, Krista leaned forward again, firmly wrapping her arms around Guarnere and placing her head on his shoulder. She inwardly began a little prayer in hopes that no one would see them thought that was doubtful. Any awkwardness left was now doubled. She felt the urge to move.

"Hope you don't mind if we take the long way." Guarnere whispered, kicking the bike on soon after, drowning Krista's response.

They sped down the dirt road, passing by buildings at an alarming rate. Krista's grip tightened as they hit a bump, her head hiding behind his back, not wanting to look anymore. All she could hear was the wind which drowned the sound of her heart but she could still feel as it began to beat its way into her throat.

"Enjoying yourself?!" Guarnere managed to shout above the cry of the wind. Krista hit him in the stomach in response knowing it would not hurt him but would most certainly get the message through. He began to shake as though he were laughing again. That would figure. Anything she did usually resulted in that kind of response.

For what seemed like eternity, they continued like this. Every once in a while Krista would gather the courage to look over Guarnere's shoulder and almost immediately he would pull some stupid trick that had her holding on for dear life such as turning much too sharply or attempting to drive it on one wheel which resulted in the bike nearly flipping over on the both of them. Mumbling apologies under his breath, Guarnere began to drive much slower, if only until the butterflies in both of their stomachs had subsided.

Finding her reactions ridiculous and cowardly, Krista decided to look up once more and never look down again. Within view was the aid station, much to her relief. This terrifying ride would soon be over. Guarnere was almost tempted to turn away from the building but he knew she was watching and decided not to chance it.

Luz and Malarkey sat near the aid station, unafraid of whatever sounds came out of it because there had been no casualties as of late. Even Roe was among them, enjoying his much deserved time off. No wounded men was like heaven to him, if only it could have lasted forever. They all turned to watch the motorcycle approach, noting the woman who sat on the back, face as pale as a ghost.

"Jesus Christ, what did he do to her this time?" Luz mumbled to himself as the bike came to a halt. Malarkey jogged over to help Krista who was all too happy to get off of it. She quickly walked over to the porch of the building and sat down, thankful that it was not capable of moving.

Roe took a seat next to Krista. "Are you alright?"

"He drives like a madman." She responded, eying the bike with a newfound hatred.

"I'll bet he does."

Malarkey turned back to Guarnere. "Hey, Bill, if you wanted to kill her, all you had to do was feed her a c-ration."

"Shut up, Malarkey." Guarnere looked over at Krista. "Sorry about the ride. I honestly thought you would like it." He took Krista's glare as the only response he would receive. Kicking the bike back on, Guarnere turned around and got ready to drive back out of the town, prepared to take full advantage of his time off.

"Hey Guarnere!" Roe shouted, gaining the sergeant's attention. "Try not to hurt yourself." Giving a not so reassuring smile, Guarnere sped off leaving a cloud of dust for the rest to inhale.

Luz sighed. "Like that's going to work."

"All I said to do was try."

* * *

Night fell once again at the camp. Luz and Malarkey still remained, their turn for the line not until the morning. A few other bodies had trickled into the area creating quite a group outside of the aid station. The air was still warm; they might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Krista sat on the railing ignoring the poker game, having been banned from actually participating. She watched the edge of town, thinking about Guarnere. He had not yet returned but she was not concerned about that; she was merely curious as to where he could have gone in the middle of nowhere.

Turning away from the road, she began to watch the men. They all did various things, each involving not paying attention to her as though she were just a normal part of the group. How could it be so easy? How could they just accept her so quickly? Even disregarding the fact that she was German, it seemed not right. What had she done to make them think she was just one of the guys?

Smiling, Krista shrugged it off, not caring about the question too much. She had enough questions, this one did not matter. Some things were what they were; there was no need to explain it.

A dull roaring sound announced the arrival of a jeep. No one paid any attention to it. Vehicles had been passing through all day; this one was no different from the last. It was when the sound of screeching brakes began right in front of the building that some took a glance at it and when a Philly accent started swearing that men began to look over.

When Krista looked over, her heart seemed to drop. There Guarnere was pinned to the front of the jeep, just as Webster had been when he had been hit. Feeling all of the color flush from her face, Krista slid off of the rail onto the ground, hitting it at a run. She reached the jeep in no time, looking over Guarnere for any severe wounds. Fortunately there was only a bandage on his leg allowing a small sigh of relief to escape.

"What did you do?" Krista asked, a frustrated look mixed in amongst others.

"It wasn't my fault." Guarnere said putting on what looked like a decent innocent look. "I swear."

Only nodded, Krista took to looking over him until Roe appeared which was no long after.

"I thought I told you not to hurt yourself." Roe muttered as he began to work on the wound.

"I tried but I-ow! Geez, would it kill you to give me some morphine?"

"I don't know. Think you deserve it?"

"Goddammit, it wasn't my fault! I got shot by a fucking sniper!" The first thought that entered Krista's mind was that the man had a terrible shot but she quickly pushed it aside, instead thinking about how lucky the man was. Roe did not seem fazed.

"Did it ever occur to you that a man on a motorcycle in the middle of nowhere on the Allied side of the line might be what some of us like to refer to as a sitting duck?" Guarnere shut up, not bothering to argue his point anymore. "Let's get him inside."

Two men came over and took Guarnere away on the stretcher. Krista would have followed but the driver of the jeep grabbed her arm. He was a lieutenant, one that she did not recognize.

"Who are you?" He asked his voice gruff.

"I am Krista. I help here."

The man did not look convinced. "How long have you been with these men?"

It was then that something she could not explain happened. After all of the lying she had done, she could not tell this man one that would have gotten her out of this situation in no time. Her mouth could not form the words; her mind could not create the idea. It was as though ever since the truth finally came out, her mind decided that there could be no more lies, even one such as this. All she could do was quietly stare at him as the fear of discovery set in.

"I think I need to speak with the commanding officer."

* * *

Major changes ahead! Beware!!!!


	14. Saying Goodbye

In order to get Krista out of the area, I'm afraid I may have delved into the area of make believe for some time. It may sound a little corny and make no sense but I like it enough. Hope you don't mind it.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Saying Goodbye**

**October 1944**

**Randwijk, Holland**

Captain Winters stared down the lieutenant, questioning whether or not he could convince the man to turn a blind eye on the situation and walk away. It did not seem likely. The man appeared bent on getting Krista out of there, or getting every man demoted; he had yet to determine which.

Krista sat in the corner of the room, waiting for either of the two to say something. It seemed like a stalemate. Perhaps they would be here all night.

Winters finally spoke. "What exactly do you want out of this, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, I just want the girl out of here. She is not supposed to be on the front lines."

"She is just a local. Last time I checked she could be here if she wanted."

The lieutenant, still at attention, held back a scoff. "Sir, from what I understand, she has been with you a while. If that is true, sir, wouldn't that mean you took her with you from wherever you were before?"

Winters sighed, feeling boxed in already. This was not going to be simple, if even possible. "How do you know how long she has been with us?"

"From the way the men reacted, sir. They would have had to have known her for a long period of time."

"Well, that's a good theory and all, but-″

"Sir, I wasn't finished."

Winters paused before responding, giving a disapproving look that made the lieutenant cringe slightly. "Continue."

"Sir, I helped evacuate wounded from Nuenen. I recall seeing her there." Krista watched all the confidence slip from Winters' grasp. There was no winning the fight now. The man had a point. Better agree with him before something terrible happens.

"Alright, Lieutenant, I see your point. Yes, I'll do something about it. She'll be off the front lines soon." The lieutenant saluted; Winters just waved it off. He sat down with another sigh, watching the man leave. He figured the hard part was over when in fact everything had been easy so far.

Krista looked over at Winters. "I must leave?"

Winters nodded. "I hate it as much as you do, but what choice do I have?"

"Order him not to tell." Krista said, standing up.

"I wish it were as simple as that but it's not. If anyone found out after that point, I'd be in a lot more trouble than I am right now." He paused. "You should have known they'd find out eventually." She did but she had hoped that it would not have been so soon.

"Where do I go?"

"I'll have Nix find someplace for you. We are not leaving you alone."

Krista could feel her heart sinking. Everything she had come to know was leaving once again. "Will I see them again?"

Winters looked up at her, seeing the genuine look of fear in her eyes. She had bonded with the men. In fact, they were probably the only family she had left and now he was taking her away from them. This almost seemed more dangerous than leaving her on the front lines. It killed him inside to have to do it, but there was no other choice. If she wanted any chance of seeing the men again, she would have to leave now.

He sighed. "I don't know."

* * *

Packing what little she had, Krista found herself crying once again. She wished they had hated her, forcing her to leave, to run off to some country where no one would know her. It would have hurt less. Eventually she would have forgotten them, at least in the manner that she forgot Pierre or her brother. Instead, she was being left with a good memory that she may never be able to return to, leaving a permanent hole that would never heal, a hole that could kill her. There was no doubt there.

There was a soft knock at the door. Krista froze, pulling herself together. She did not want to look like a complete wreck again, but even as she thought about this, she knew it would be an impossible task. Emotion always made itself known, especially around the men.

"Come in." she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but they heard. The door opened slowly as though waiting for more permission.

"Hey, Krista." Nixon whispered. "I'm here to, um…escort you to your new quarters."

She nodded, wiping the drying tears from her face. How she hated crying all the time. Had she not been through enough already? Everything was supposed to get easier and instead it only got worse.

Nixon scratched his head, thinking of anything that would cheer her up. "The boys are throwing a little going away party for you, at least until the jeep arrives." Krista nodded again, grabbing her bag which, despite its lack of contents, felt extremely heavy.

"For most of them it's just a good excuse to get a drink."

Her lips managed to form a smile. "You do not need one."

Nixon's surprise looked genuine. "How'd you…of course, nothing gets past a woman." He paused. "I never said it was my excuse though." Grabbing her bag, Nixon led the way out of her room, giving Krista a few moments to herself. Not long ago she had walked these hallways in fear, now she held them in reverence, wishing them to stay a while longer. Perhaps this was the lesson to be learned. Never come to hate things or fate will take them from you, only then will you realize how much you love it. Apparently her brother was not enough.

All too soon the hallway came to an end. Before the two sat a door, it delighted at the opportunity to show them their future.

Outside all of the men were gathered. Krista hoped that there were still men guarding the line but was inwardly pleased with the results. So many faces tried to look happy but she could see right through them. No one wanted her to leave. At least there was one thing to be thankful for.

The first person to come up to her was Luz, his smile goofier than ever.

"What's this? Guarnere gets hurt and suddenly you're leaving us?"

"Yeah, what's he got that we don't?" asked Toye, enjoying the new game thoroughly. The others quickly joined in.

"He's got a broken leg."

"A terrible voice."

"And a sense of humor to match."

"And if I didn't know better, I'd say you like him." Malarkey whispered in her ear. She elbowed him hard, relishing the groan that soon followed.

Krista shouted something in German which Liebgott translated as soon as he caught his breath.

"At least he knows how to show a girl a good time." The crowd erupted with laughter, whistles and comments were soon tossed in. Many nods of approval were also received.

Everyone soon quieted down as the men thought of the sergeant. He had been shipped out that morning, giving Krista no opportunity to say goodbye. He would have been the life of the 'party.' They all missed him though no one was going to admit it.

Heffron coughed and stepped forward. "Speaking of Guarnere, he left something for you."

"Couldn't expect him to leave quietly, could we?" Bull asked after a small laugh. Others followed.

Out of his pocket, Heffron drew a hand full of beads, beautiful little things and colored ruby red. They were all attached by a string and connected at the bottom with an ornate cross. A rosary.

"He still thinks you're Catholic."

"Then he's still wrong!" Liebgott shouted, now lost in the crowd. There was more laughter.

Krista grabbed the rosary, holding it delicately, afraid it would snap. She put it around her neck and quickly tucked it inside her shirt. She could almost hear Guarnere throwing out some terrible comment. His gift was perfect.

The sound of a vehicle approaching silenced the group. Men could no longer hold the look of happiness on their faces. Their eyes glanced back and forth, falling on Krista briefly then returning to the jeep or some other random direction. They all shifted uncomfortably, amateurs at the art of saying goodbye. Krista took her time to hug each one of them, not caring how long it took or how pathetic it looked to others. Luz, Liebgott, Malarkey, Heffron, Toye, Roe, Bull, Lipton, Perconte, Muck, Martin and others she had just gotten to know like Penkala, Powers and even a few replacements. It seemed as though everyone had fallen under her spell.

Trigger made his way through the crowd, whining all the while. He was not going to attempt to cover the fact that he did not want her to go. Krista knelt to the ground and gave the German shepherd an extra long hug, letting him lick her face to his heart's content.

"You don't need to do that." Talbert said as he looked on. Both looked up at him, confused. "Trigger is a good dog but the front lines are no place for him either. He's going with you." Confusion soon turned to shock and then elation. Giving Talbert a quick hug, she let him say his final goodbyes to Trigger.

The group then parted, revealing the jeep, killing all good feelings that had emerged. This was it. She was really leaving. There would b not last second miracles to save her now. Second chances were hard to come by and she had already been given so many. Perhaps fate had been kinder than what she believed.

A small box sat in the back; it boasted the title 'chocolate bars.' Tied together with string, it looked like some half-baked attempt at a Christmas present. Krista gazed at it curiously, wondering whether she should be afraid or not.

Winters stood on the other side of the jeep. "It's a small token from the men." He said, smiling at Krista's caution. "No, there's not chocolate in there. The men took it upon themselves to personally empty the box for your present." Krista now looked at them with almost accusing eyes. She was going, perhaps never to come back, and not one thought to save her some chocolate. The men smiled sheepishly in reply, eyes looking like puppy's.

"Instead they gave you something a little more…lasting." Krista now looked at Winters, still cautious and confused more than ever. Winters motioned to the box. She opened it slowly, waiting for something to pop out at her. The string was knotted together so badly, it took her a few minutes to actually get it open. Several men offered their knives but she insisted that she could get it done. If there was one thing she could do by herself, it was untying a box, no matter how lengthy or embarrassing it was.

Eventually the string lost its fight. Krista found herself staring at a small pile of papers. Each one had a different name on it. She picked up the one clearly marked 'Nixon;' his handwriting was so much better than her own, she thought. Inside were words she did not understand.

"What is this?" she asked, squinting her eyes like she believed that the loss of vision would improve her chances of reading the tiny paper.

"That and the other papers are the home addresses of every man in the company." Krista looked up from the paper, tears already forming in her eyes at the thought of such a simple yet beautiful gesture. "In case they never see you again, or even if they do, the men thought it would be nice for you to keep in contact with them once the war is over, though I think many would prefer an actual visit." Krista never caught the last part. So swept up in an overwhelming wave of emotion, she practically tackled Winters, hugging him as tightly as she could. The normally shy captain did not hesitate in returning the hug, feeling a touch of her innocence as he did so. Despite everything she had been through, a child-like quality managed to make itself known at times. They all had been dragged from home too soon, reality not giving anyone the proper chance to grow up. This 'adulthood' that they had all been forced into was a drastic change from what they would have normally received. Whether it was better or not had yet to be determined.

The men sat back, watching without surprise or the urge to joke. It was a nice moment, one of an unfortunate few they would experience in Europe.

The jeep driver, who had been watching the entire scene unfold with a mixture of frustration and impatience, honked the horn repeatedly to inform the group that he was still there and had a schedule that needed to be kept. In the middle of the biggest war in history, he did not want to fine himself driving around a bunch of refugees that men had gotten attached to.

Giving the driver a harsh look, Krista quickly let go of Winters and entered the back of the jeep, placing the box of addresses in her lap. Trigger settled in next to her, still forlorn looking but okay with the decision. Nixon climbed up front and whispered something to the driver. The man did not complain again.

Krista gathered the courage to look over at the men, at her family, but before she could say anything, the jeep took off. Soon the men that she had grown close to, who knew everything about her and accepted her, were mere specks on the horizon. She held back the tears. There would be no more. They were alive. It was best that she last saw them like that, relatively happy and together for war never gives those opportunities often.

* * *

Krista gazed outside the window at the passing farmland. Occasionally there would be signs of war such as beaten down tanks or shelled buildings but other than that tell what kind of hell the country had been through.

Nixon had accompanied her as far as Antwerp. He took her to the city's train station and gave her a one-way ticket to Mourmelon-le-Grand, the one French city, besides Paris, that she never got a chance to visit during her two year run with Pierre, not that she wanted to go there. Pierre had told her enough about the city. Every war since Caesar had had its way with it. The conditions were not pretty.

Neither were they on the train. Since it was one heading away from the front lines, the majority of the passengers were wounded soldiers. Every type of injury imaginable could be found. Many were missing arms or legs; others had their heads wrapped in bandages. Some had only minor injures, most of the damages being found elsewhere.

The conductor almost did not let her on, afraid of what the sight of wounded men would do to her. after being reassured by Nixon several times that she had seen much worse, the man reluctantly let her on. Trigger, though, was not so lucky. He had to be with the luggage. She could only imagine what he was going through now.

The train went through a tunnel, breaking off Krista's thoughts. She looked back inside the train. Two men sat with her playing a card game. They had hit it off rather well, finding the fact that they had lost opposite legs entertaining. Every now and then they would glance over at her, curious as to why she was there though the never said anything. Neither did she. Krista settled for a warm smile and nod, not wanting to know how her accent might effect the situation.

They had to be nearing the station by now. Krista thought over what she had to do. After getting all her things, she would meet with a lieutenant that was a good friend of Nixon's. he would take her to a house near the outskirts of the town where a few nurses stayed. She was going to be a volunteer and help out at the nearby hospital. Though she would rather be helping the men of Easy, at least she was not sitting around doing nothing.

She began to mull over what Nixon had told her before leaving.

"_This is the interesting part," he said. "We needed a legitimate reason to take you away like this. While it isn't right for us to have you, HQ would have been fine with driving you a mile away and wishing you the best of luck. We had to make sure you were a little more…attached."_

"_Attached?"_

"_You're married to someone."_

_It took a few minutes for Krista to pick her jaw up off the ground, but she finally asked. "To who?"_

"_It doesn't matter who. I never filed the paperwork, nor will I. I just needed to show some people so I could get you out of here and-″_

"_Who?"_

"_Guarnere." She hit him after that._

"_What?! It makes perfect sense since he is no longer here." Nixon replied, backing away and rubbing his arm slightly. "Besides, you two do act like a married couple." He dodged the second blow._

Looking at the soldiers now, she wondered if that was what they suspected: some girl that married a lonely GI just to get out of there, to America if she could. It was a depressing thought and certainly something she would never do.

The amount of buildings outside began to increase, hinting to an incoming city. Krista found herself holding her breath. She was starting over…again, new people, a new place and no one to help her. she should have been used to it by now but that would be an even more unfortunate thing.

The slowing train confirmed that it was the stop. Next to her, the men began picking up their cards, mumbling and laughing to themselves. At least someone was enjoying the trip.

Krista was one of the last to get off the train, choosing to wait until all of the wounded had been taken off. They had been through enough already; the last thing they needed was someone in the way only making things worse.

Standing on the platform, a half empty bag in one hand and the least of an overanxious dog in the other, Krista looked horribly out of place. She watched others walk around with a destination and purpose in mind; she had neither. If no one came for her, which knowing her luck might happen, she would not know what to do or where to go. Then again, she should have been used to this too.

A slender, young officer slowly approached her. Krista assumed it was the lieutenant Nixon had been referring to. Who else would come looking for a lost and confused refugee?

"Ms. Krista?" he asked rather confidently, still offering a hand which she, like all the other times, took. "I am Lieutenant Novak. I suppose Captain Nixon spoke of me?" Krista nodded; he looked down. "He didn't tell me there was a dog." He shrugged, grabbing the bag from her and leading the way through the crowd.

Krista found herself in another jeep traveling through a city that looked just as it had been described. It was depressing.

"Now, I don't mean to be rude. I know you people have been through a lot but you're lucky that Nixon is a good friend of mine or you would not have gotten as far as you have. We're not here to take care of war brides; we're here to take care of the enemy." Krista now watched him curiously. He seemed like a nice man but he had yet to show it, not that he needed to. She owed him enough as it was.

The rest of the drive was quiet. Krista continued her careful observation of the lieutenant, seeing as how she had nothing else to do. His features were similar to Pierre's, dark hair, handsome and rugged. What a way to return to France.

They pulled up to a small building just off the main road. It was tow stories but just barely with only one window for the upstairs. Flower pots sat outside, distracting from the dull, brick exterior of the building, but everything inside them was dead. No one had time to care for beautiful things anymore.

Krista climbed out of the jeep and took her bag from Novak.

"Be careful in there," he said, winking. "I hear they're a handful." Then he was off, leaving her to a fate that she was even less certain about. Trigger sniffed the air cautiously, more afraid now then he had ever been on the front lines. Strangely enough, Krista felt the same. She would rather be in a trench than on this small dirt road.

The windows, once shut, now flew open, releasing a large amount of profanity and smoke. Krista turned her head trying to get a better look. Two hands appeared, waving a towel in attempt to get rid of the smoke faster. Other people inside could be heard shouting.

Suddenly wandering around with nowhere to go did not seem like such a bad thing.

Now the door opened and out stepped a tall blonde, clearly upset at what was going on.

"Next time you try to cook, make sure no one else is around!" She turned to see Krista, a disheveled brunette who had been through hell and back and looked about ready to return to it. "Oh, shoot. You must be Krista." She gave a half nod, not bothering to bring her head back up.

The blonde gave her an awkward smile and stepped forward. "I'm Megan." Krista made no response, still unsure of how to react. "Yeah…who is this?" Megan asked, kneeling down to pet the German shepherd at Krista's feet.

"Trigger." Krista replied at a whisper, watching him enjoy the attention he got from Megan. He took to women quickly, something she normally would have found entertaining. Today was a day of firsts.

"Trigger, huh? Can I assume you didn't name him?" Megan asked, smiling. It was warm and welcoming. Perhaps the transition would not be so bad. She nodded. "Was it your husband then?" Megan's smile faded almost as fast as Krista's color. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is that subject off limits? I can understand. Whenever my husband is on the front lines, I don't like to talk about him either."

"How much do you know?"

Megan stood quickly, a little embarrassed. "Geez, what a way to start off. I don't want to sound like I'm prying. We were only told your name and that you married someone. They needed to get you off the line so we offered to keep you here. the hospital heard you could speak German which is going to come in handy. We get a few POWs every now and then and our translator could use a break." It was a lot to absorb, leaving Krista silent for a while. Megan became nervous.

Another person exited the building. She was a short girl, especially next to Megan, with fiery red hair and glowing green eyes.

"C'mon, Megan, you can't leave me in here alone to clean up her- oh, hi there." Krista gave the newcomer a small wave; Megan turned to her.

"Louise, this is Krista and vice versa."

"Megan, you know I don't like-″

"Sorry…Krista, this is Lou." The redhead produced a hand.

"Pleasure to meet you." Krista took her hand, noting the strong grasp she had. They must have been though a lot, both of them. It became easy to tell after a while. Everyone knew who had shared their experiences. "You look tired. Long trip?"

"Long war." Krista replied, still quiet.

Megan nodded. "What has it been, five years since Holland was free? Four? Either way, it's forever. I can't imagine what you've been through." So she was Dutch again. At least it was something she could deal with.

"So, who brought you here?" Lou asked, a little too excited for an answer. Megan gave her a look that Krista did not fully understand.

"An officer…Novak?"

Lou's smile widened. "And he couldn't stick around for his bride?" Confusion at its peak, Krista believed that being with the men was a lot easier, and simpler.

Megan frowned. "Lieutenant Novak is my husband and Lou can't stop pointing out the fact that-″

"They've been married three months!" Lou squealed and jumped like a little girl. It was something Krista had not seen for some time. If the men had done that, it would have scared her more than it did now.

"So what, it's better than the three month affair you had with that sailor."

Lou stopped jumping and began to pout a little. "He was a marine."

Megan turned back to Krista. "I guess we're both war brides, aren't we?" Krista merely smiled, avoiding any other kind of confirmation. She watched Lou walk forward and take Trigger's leash. He looked back at Krista for some kind of help as he was taken toward the house.

"This is a great dog!" Lou shouted, almost inside. "What's his name?"

"Trigger!" Megan shouted back.

"I can guess who named him!" Krista paled again and Megan shook her head.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure they don't mention him anymore. You've been through enough already." Megan picked up Krista's bag and began to lead the way to the house. "Oh, we also tend to ask the same questions so get used to repetition." Krista took one last look around and sighed, following Megan to her new home. She was certain it would be a nice place but that did not aide her troubled mind. There would be no replacing her time with the men. War or no war, it was the one place that she would rather be.

Her first view inside was a hazy one, the smoke from the kitchen still pouring out at a decent rate. The smell was of terrible, burnt things, and Krista could not help but wrinkle her nose slightly. Down the hallway, she could hear Trigger sneeze. What the smell must have been to him.

A figure approached through the smoke, coughing as it went. Another woman emerged, her simple dress stained with the burnt concoction that she had been attempting. Her hair was brown like Krista's only it was worn shorter and with curls which emphasized the roundness of her face. She looked rather cheery despite the mess she had made within.

"Ah, here she is! It's about time too. I was wondering if the lieutenant hadn't gone and taken a new bride."

"I heard that, Chelsea!" Megan shouted from somewhere in the smoke; Krista could not be sure where.

Chelsea snickered a little. "Well, I guess that's it for introductions. I've got a bit of a mess to clean up in the kitchen. Just go through that doorway there straight back until you reach the staircase. We all share the upstairs as a bedroom."

"So if you plan on having any guests, stay at their place," Lou added, appearing behind Chelsea. The look on her face made Krista nervous so she turned to the hallway and left. Chelsea promptly hit Lou.

"Cut it out! You're making her nervous! Besides, you know she's married."

"Yeah, I know but…well, you never know." Chelsea rolled her eyes.

Krista heard their conversation, the word 'married' making her stomach churn worse than it already was. How could she possibly go on like this? Being the Dutch girl again, that was fine but talking about being married? She did not even believe it herself. If Guarnere ever found out, she would never hear the end of it.

She paused at the bottom of the stairs.

Guarnere! What was she going to do if she ever saw him again? The knowledge of what Nixon had put her through would only cause her to giggle in front of him, or pale at least. She could not lie to him, not anymore. Inwardly, Krista began to pray that no mistakes were made with the paperwork that permanently made her Mrs. Bill Guarnere. She shuddered at what her father would think. Normally he would have been the least of her worries but the worst ones were confirmed dead.

The thought shook her out of the daze and she continued her trek up the stairs.

The room was warm and comfortable, heaven compared to the front lines. How the men would have loved this. Four beds, two on each side, were in the room along with four dressers. There was also a large wardrobe to her right. A few pictures were scattered here and there but the room was mostly bare, evidence that most of the girls' time was not spent in this room.

"Sorry it's not much," Megan said, setting down Krista's bag on what she assumed was her bed. "We don't exactly have the time to decorate around here. It's a little low on the priority list." Krista nodded, walking over to her new bed. It was near the window, a luxury she was thankful for.

Megan put her hands on her hips. "Okay. I'm going to start making dinner. Don't worry, nothing will catch on fire." She paused as though waiting for an unexpected smile. "You don't have to come down. I understand it's been a long day, sleep as much as you want. In the mean time, I'll keep the girls off you. They've been dying to discuss gossip with someone new." She began to walk away toward the staircase.

"Megan."

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Megan smiled. "No problem."

Krista looked at her bag. Slowly she opened it and pulled out the small box that the men had given to her. She read all of the little papers inside. Most contained notes to her. Some made her laugh while others made her think. Most of them gave her the urge to cry. How could a letter possibly replace seeing them? What if she never saw them again?

Shaking her head, Krista moved on to the last paper. It was Webster's. Guilt coursed through her body once again. He still did not know about her.

He had written a small message in his always neat handwriting.

_I sent this to Janovec. Hope it gets to you. Write anything you want. Remember it makes sense._

Krista could not help but laugh at that, remembering back to that rainy day. She looked at the address scribbled down. Not only was there one in America but also a hospital in Paris. She decided there and then that if she ever got to go to Paris, she would find Webster and tell him all about herself. It was not fair that others knew while he did not. Hopefully he would react just as they had and remain her friend.

At the bottom of the box was another piece of paper but this one was much thicker than the others. On the back was a note.

_In case you forget us._

Thinking that it would hardly be the case, she turned the paper over. It was a picture of Easy Company. Smiling, she placed it on the dresser next to her bed and glanced over the faces one by one. She would see them again; she knew it.

* * *

Ta-Dah!


	15. Unconquered Land

Hello again my fellow fanfictioners! I had so much fun writing this chapter! WHOO!!!! It made me happy. Happy is good. I like happy.

Anywho, welcome to the latest installment of Lèse Majesté!!!! I hope none of you are getting bored with it. That's why I added some new characters, just to mix it up a little. Hopefully they won't annoy you too much.

Alright so, enjoy your Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter!

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Unconquered Land**

**November 1944**

**Mourmelon-le-Grand, France**

While the first few days with the trio were awkward, the following weeks were promising and filled with fun times. Krista quickly gave up the small white lie that Nixon had concocted for her, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the amount of lying she had done in her lifetime, and told the girls that she was not married, though still fearing what they may do. The girls simply laughed at her fear, completely understanding why the lie was necessary. If anything, they were jealous. She had a whole company of men she could choose from and was guaranteed a good marriage and life with any of them. Plus, upon viewing the photograph of Easy and hearing several stories, Lou had found herself quite smitten with Krista's 'husband.'

"I think he is the most handsome man I've ever seen." Lou stared at the ceiling in a daze, drawing imaginary circles in the table with her finger. Krista sat at the table with Lou and Chelsea, scarcely touching her breakfast out of fascination at the infatuated girl. She had not been able to stop laughing ever since she had shown the picture; she could name off the ranking of every man in the company, one being the worst and ten the best. Hardly any fell below a six.

"Oh, enough already!" Chelsea shouted, giving up on her cereal. "It's always Bill this or Bill that. You haven't even met the guy! Why don't you talk about someone else for a change?"

"Shall we talk about the man you always mumble about in your sleep?" Lou retorted, "What's his name…something like…duck."

"It's Buck!"Chelsea and Krista shouted in unison, the former soon bowing her head in embarrassment while the latter broke into laughter once more.

"Whatever," Lou mumbled, waving it off. "You're so typical, Chelsea. Go with the lieutenant that happens to be a jock. At least my man is original." Krista almost had another fit but held it back.

"You are good for each other," she said, finally taking a bite of her toast. "You talk just as much."

Now Chelsea had her chance to laugh. "A man who loves to hear his voice as much as Lou? They could talk for hours and never hear a thing!"

"Well, what are you supposed to talk about with deer boy, huh? You don't even know how many innings are in a baseball game!"

"I'm sure there are plenty of other things we could talk about. Heck, we could sit around and watch Bill march in front of us because he ordered him to!"

Lou looked offended. "You wouldn't dare!"

"I would!"

"Ladies! Ladies! Calm down!" Megan shouted, "Fighting over guys who know nothing of your existence. Do you really think that wise?" She sat next to Krista, who looked thoroughly disappointed that the fight was over, and took a sip from her coffee.

"I don't know." Lou replied. "Do you think it's wise for a married woman to sneak extra glances at a certain someone in the picture when she thinks no one else is looking?" Megan flushed. Chelsea giggled. Krista became confused.

"You like someone?" She asked, looking over at Megan curiously.

"I admire his distinct features, that's all." Megan said, staring into her coffee, fingernails tapping on the mug.

"Uh-huh," came a chorus from the background.

Megan sighed, "Alright, so what if I like him. Is that a crime?"

"Yes says the ring on your finger." Chelsea pointed out.

"Look, I'm sure Daniel admires people from time to time too. It's human nature to find others attractive." The girls only continued to smile.

"Who is it?" Krista asked.

"I don't know. Some dark haired officer, a captain I think."

Krista nearly jumped out of her seat. "Lewis Nixon!"

"If you say so."

"He is married."

Lou smiled. "They're perfect for each other." Megan promptly stuck her tongue out; Lou quickly reciprocated and a small skirmish was started. At some point something was thrown in about Buck, forcing Chelsea to join in. Krista took this as an opportunity to bow out, heading upstairs to get ready for her shift at the hospital. She had adjusted rather quickly to life there. Things were not as chaotic as the front lines which had made everything considerably easier, except for the men. They were constant flirts with everyone, including Krista. Most of the time she found herself asking the girls what these men meant and reddened when she found out; this, if anything, made her miss Easy Company the most. No one would let men talk to her like that for long.

Krista looked in the mirror, something she did a lot more often now. Unfortunately she could not wear pants on the job so she was forced to deal with a wool skirt until she bought something better. It itched all the time and drove her crazy. She had to wear a headscarf too which annoyed her even more. People were volunteering for the job; they should be allowed to wear whatever they please.

The girl that looked back at her was nothing like before. Her bones no longer stuck out and her skin was not as pale as before. There were no more bruises, those injuries had healed. The cut was now a dull scar, still visible but not as distracting as before. Everything about her had changed except for her eyes. Within them they still held the torture and pain that she had been put through over these past years. That was something that would never disappear, proof that terrible things never truly go away.

Laughter erupted down below. The war was over, at least theirs was. If only this one could end the same way.

Krista stepped down the stairs quietly in hopes to sneak out the back without attracting any attention. Of course, there was always that one step that had other plans in mind. She cringed as the creek echoed throughout. Megan walked out of the dining room to investigate the noise, observing Krista with almost a look of disappointment.

"Off to the hospital again? You work too much, Krista."

"It is something to do."

Megan sighed. "Tell you what, I'm coming with. I'm going to get you a few days off and then we're going to take a little vacation, how does that sound?"

Krista almost seemed afraid of the thought. "I do not know…I…"

"I wasn't asking for your permission here. You're going no matter what." Megan walked up the stairs past Krista to change. "Don't leave without me." Shaking her head, Krista went to wait by the front door. So many people knew what was best for her, they always thought that something would fix her but it never occurred to them that there was no fixing this. She could stop it for a short period with constant work but a vacation would have an opposite effect. She would have too much time to think and no one to distract her with a silly story or a meaningful conversation. The men were gone and she had no way of seeking them out.

This thought made her pause. She thought of something.

Rushing up the stairs, Krista nearly ran into Megan.

"Can we go to Paris?"

* * *

The bustling city was so different from the countryside that Krista had become accustomed to. In fact, there was hardly any land to be seen at all, most of it taken over by large buildings of several varieties. She could not stop gaping at everything as they roamed through the streets. Megan must have been to the city before; she navigated through the crowds as though it were nothing, not even taking a moment to glance at any of the sights and accepting the idea of visiting the Eiffel Tower with a mere shrug.

They approached a rather worn down looking building near the center of the city. Men stood everywhere, looking at all the women that passed by and appreciating the view. Some whistled to Krista and she felt herself blushing. Megan rolled her eyes and picked up the pace.

The desk clerk looked about as tired as the building he was standing in. He looked past Megan and asked if she had a reservation.

"Yes, it should be under Novak." The man glanced over a list set before him and then grabbed two of the few remaining sets of keys on the wall.

"Rooms thirty six and thirty seven, two floors up. Enjoy your stay."

"I have someone else coming as well. A Lieutenant Novak." Krista eyed Megan quickly and smiled. The clerk was not as amused.

"I'll tell him you're here."

"Thank you." Megan replied, quite happily. The two proceeded up the stairs and found their rooms across the hall from each other. "Okay, I hate to leave you alone so soon, but I have a date with my husband tonight. We haven't really had an opportunity for our honeymoon."

Krista nodded. "I understand."

"Okay." Megan paused just before opening the door to her room. "Tomorrow I'll take you sightseeing." Without any more words, the two departed into their quarters. To most people they would seem simple: a bed, a couple dressers and a bathroom, but for Krista this was a luxury, especially since it was all hers. She took a small peek outside one of her windows. There were buildings, none of the ones that she wished to see, but it was still a nice sight. There was no damage visible here.

* * *

Krista sat in the tub, soaking away the years' worth of sorrow and dirt, enjoying the sound of the city outside. Men in uniform ran about everywhere, taking full advantage of their time off from the line. This scene had not changed much either, only the clothing worn. Only a few months ago it was German soldiers clamming for passes to the bright city of lights. They would have acted no different, done the same things the men were doing now. It was an interesting thought but one she did not wish to linger on.

She began to wonder if any of the men from Easy were there, in the city at this very moment, wandering around, hardly realizing that they were sharing the area with someone they missed. She could search for them for hours and still come up with nothing. Of course, there was one she could find.

Earlier in the day Krista had gotten instructions on how to get to the hospital. Hopefully he was still there. After all of her days in a hospital, she did not want to find herself in another one without an excuse. No doubt all this exposure to men in such miserable conditions was going to affect her later on.

The thoughts of how he would react once again entered her mind. What if he did hate her? Being stuck in a hospital for so long, his mood would not be very good, somehow worse than on the frontline. He would, hopefully, be overjoyed seeing her, but once she told him, would that not bring him back down?

Sick of hearing her fears, Krista took a breath and sank under the water, drowning the world's complaints. It was warm and quiet, comforting really, relaxing. She could almost fall asleep. Nothing was wrong anymore, nothing mattered. The war did not exist, neither did the world. It was all so nice, if only she could stay under a little bit longer…

Krista opened her eyes, looked at the light smiling down at her through the water. She sat up fast, taking in a giant gulp of air as she broke the surface. Pushing her hair aside, Krista stared at the water, breathing hard, heart beating faster than it ever had in her days on the frontlines. What had she been doing? This time no other thought answered, no other questions presented themselves; there was only a feeling. She had to get out now.

She dressed quickly, not bothering to do anything with her still soaking wet hair, not caring that the temperature outside might cause it to freeze. She put on pants, nice ones that Lou had loaned to her, and a light jacket that might not do the job, but she did not care about that either.

Krista stepped out into the hallway, taking a moment to gaze at the door across from hers. Megan and her husband were in there, if they were back yet. She did not even know what time it was. Somewhere around midnight she supposed. Late hours were not as difficult as they used to be.

The sun may have been long gone but the streets still contained plenty of people. Some were drunk, staggering or dancing down the streets, a happy aura about them. Others were enjoying the sights, their happiness equal to the rest. She ignored all of them, tried to block out their feelings of joy. It only depressed her further. She darted past couples and groups quickly, seeking out lonely streets.

She was not sure how long she wandered through Paris. The fog she was in had a strong hold on her, the whistles and catcalls of vacationing soldiers barely touching the high walls she had built for herself. There were no thoughts or feelings, just ht need to walk, the need to make it through the night in order to return to normalcy. Changes were not good; changes were never good, not anymore.

Krista looked around, trying to figure out where she had taken herself. The sun had risen about an hour before, completely changing the scenery. Any chance of finding the way back on her own seemed to fade with the darkness. Then she saw the building and actually smiled. Her wanderings were not so aimless after all. They had led her to the hospital.

* * *

The nurse at the front desk had the nastiest scowl on her face. Krista cringed slightly, intimidated. Normal life felt impossible right about now. She tried to smile, but the woman's scowl only deepened. Feeling her lips turning downward, Krista began to think of something to say, but came up with nothing, as usual, and sat there longing for a miracle, such as her voice which had fluttered off in amusement.

"Can I help you or are you going to stand there all day and look cute?" Krista became puzzled for a moment, but ignored the questions running through her mind.

"I am looking…for a…soldier." It sounded like a question, again.

"Well, take your pick. We've got plenty."

She blinked a couple times before continuing. "A…Private Webster."

The nurse gave her a hard stare a moment longer then sighed and looking through the stack of papers, a rather large one. Krista stood almost impatiently as the nurse took her time, glancing around at the people darting to and fro.

"He's in the back." The nurse said pointing to the entryway at the right. "Don't ask me where. These guys move around everyday."

After mumbling a quick thank you, Krista wasted no time in leaving the woman's sight. She entered the next room with a sense of relief until her gaze fell upon a new sight. The room was large, enormous really, filled to capacity with wounded men. Most were well on their way to recovery, the worst cases kept in another part of the building, but there were still so many. The nurse had said he was in the back, but that did not help much. There may have been more there than in the front. Krista sighed, wrapping her jacket closer. He was here, at least there was some solace in that. She would find him eventually.

Since this was some kind of rehabilitation ward, the men within had been in the hospital for sometime. They knew the face, name and key characteristics of every nurse working in the hospital so if anyone new showed up, they noticed. This particular girl was one that they could not help but take a second glance at. Most women that came in the hospital were nurses, or else they were some kind of visitor, but no matter what, they looked like they had prepped themselves for hours for their first arrival. Krista did not.

Her dark brown hair, wrapping itself around her shoulders, was a small victim of the wind and could use a brush, but it still look nice to most of the men. It was not often that they saw women with their hair down, a delight to see indeed. She walked with no confidence once so ever, but still managed to ignore whatever they threw at her. She was the same yet different, boring yet interesting; she was the topic of most conversations and had many wondering what soldier was fortunate enough to get paid a visit by her.

Choosing not to look at any faces, Krista glanced at the names on the charts at the end of the beds, hoping to stop when she found his name or heard his voice. So many spoke but she heard none of them as she waited for one.

Webster, David K. Pvt. That was what the chart said. Krista looked up but found the bed empty. She frowned. Of course it would work out like that.

Investigating his bed, she found a vast array of books tucked away underneath. Krista sat down, not caring how it looked, and picked one up. She flipped through the pages, attempting to read whatever story it told but there were so many words that she did not understand. If only she could.

"Man, Web is one lucky guy if he's got a girl like you waiting for him." Krista smiled at the man across from her, propped up on his good arm while the other sat in a cast. He had a goofy smile, like so many others she had come to know. "You are waiting for him, aren't you?"

"No…I like to sit on beds."

The man laughed. "A girl with a sense of humor, I like that. You know, you should have come earlier. I would have had him believing you were another one of my visitors. It drives Web crazy."

Krista nodded, thinking of how interesting an entrance that would have been. "Where is he?"

He looked around the room. "Uh, Webster hobbles out of here every now and then. The nurses hate it, but it keeps him sane. I'd try out there." He pointed out the window in between the beds. "There's a couple benches where he likes to read."

"Thank you." Krista stood quickly, clearly happier, arousing interest from the other patients.

"Hey!" The man shouted. Krista turned around. "The name's James Thatch, in case you want a guy who will actually be here for you."

Krista felt the evil appear in her eyes. This must have been how Guarnere felt all the time.

"Too crowded." She enjoyed the laughter from the men nearby and the nod of approval given to her by Thatch.

* * *

It was a small courtyard surrounded by the hospital, a place of retreat for both patients and medical personnel alike. Green grass, a sidewalk, trees dotted here and there. It was a little patch of peace amidst the chaos.

The courtyard was fairly empty; it was too early for most. Krista scanned over the various benches looking for a familiar sight. There was a bench not too far away where someone sat, their back to her. She began to walk toward the bench, trying to go as quietly as possible. He did not seem to notice her approach, even when she got so close that she could look over his shoulder and read the book in his hand.

Smiling, Krista calmly took a seat next to him, to which she heard him sigh.

"Look, I'm not doing any harm out here, can I just finish my-″ Webster finally looked at her and was frozen in a state of disbelief. He stared at her for a while, unsure of how to react. A smile slowly grew, but Webster still remained motionless, so Krista made the first move. Wrapping her arms around him, she got the goodbye never allowed to her. A little out of order, but it brought something inside to a close.

"I missed you." She whispered pulling back.

"I missed you too." Webster said, genuine surprise and happiness in his voice. "How are you?"

"I am fine. What about your leg?" Webster eyed the subject set straight before him, a crutch leaning on the railing nearby.

"It's sore and doesn't like to be walked on, but I'm getting there."

Krista nodded. "That is good."

"Yeah," he paused looking her over. "You look good."

She began to laugh. "I…was out…all night."

Webster raised his eyebrows, curious. "Really?"

"Yes…I, uh…could not stay inside."

"Once you're used to the frontlines, everything else just isn't right." He watched her nod. "Speaking of the frontlines, why aren't you there?"

"Someone found out. I work in a…hospital now. I came to see you."

This made him smile. "Not that I don't appreciate you coming, but why did you? Is it just because you missed seeing me?"

"Is that not enough?"

"No, no, don't get me wrong, it's plenty. It's more than enough, really." He paused, watching Krista blush slightly. "I just got the feeling that there's another reason."

She laughed again, softer this time. "My…poker…face is not good?"

"No, your poker face is not good, not here."

Krista sighed. She had hoped she could hide the fact that there was something else, that she would not have to admit the truth to him, not after such a warm welcome, not after seeing him so happy. It was now that she realized that the truth might crush her more than it would him.

Her silence began to concern Webster. "What is it?" he asked, touching her shoulder. She looked at him now, never noticing that she had turned away in the first place. The honest worry in his eyes gave her hope. This would be no different than before, but why did she not believe it? Why was he so different?

When she exhaled, she sounded as though she were on the verge of crying yet there were no tears in her eyes. "Who am I?"

"What?"

"Who am I…to you?"

Out of pure confusion, Webster smiled as he tried to clear up the situation. His first thought was to change the subject, but he could tell how much it meant to her so he came up with something.

"You're…you're uh, Krista, my friend and despite what everyone thinks, you're not just the girl we found in a closet. You're more than that." Krista felt her heart drop.

"Would anything…change that?" It was now that it dawned on him, that she was telling him something that could change the way he looked at her. He began to take every word seriously.

"Krista, what are you trying to tell me?"

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for anything. Once again she told her story just as she had told others, leaving out only the grimmest details. Her father, brother, Pierre and all the events that involved them were conveyed to Webster as best as she could. When her voice finally trailed off, she examined Webster's face for any kind of reaction. Whatever hint of a smile he once had now disappeared. His gaze drifted over the courtyard, focusing on nothing, unreadable. She wanted to say more, that the others did not mind, that they accepted her for who she was, but he had to make that decision on his own. Whatever he chose, she would not disagree.

His silence continued. She took that as his answer. Standing, Krista looked hopelessly at the hospital. There would be no avoiding curious eyes; there would be none of that until she got back to the hotel, which was not a short distance. This was supposed to be a vacation. It had done a marvelous job.

Webster looked at her. "Do I have to call you Sabine now?"

Krista turned back to him and, blinded by pure joy, hugged him, practically tackling Webster into the bench. It hurt a little, but it did not bother him one bit. He quickly wrapped his arms around Krista and held her there.

"I hate that name."

"Krista it is then." She smiled at him and he returned it, but his quickly faded.

Her smile vanished as well. "What?"

They were close, but Webster moved in more until their faces were almost touching. He paused just as Pierre had done, waiting for something before he continued. When his lips brushed against hers, she did not pull away. This was where the flashback ended, where she did not allow history to repeat itself once more for her cause. She brought herself closer and met his request. For a moment, they had no idea where they were, nor did they care. The reaction was strange, indescribable, but highly enjoyable, addicting, calming. Webster moved his hand up to her jaw, a tingly feeling trailing it on her skin. It was all so beautiful, perfect.

Then they heard footsteps.

"Private Webster, if I have to drag you back into the hospital one more time, I'm going to make sure the doctor injects you with-″ The nurse stopped. What she found was Webster and Krista sitting on either side of the bench, completely straight and stiff, making certain that they were not facing her, praying the red on their faces would go away. "Oh, you have a visitor…well, it does not matter. Private, you're not allowed to be out here. I'm going to have to bring you back in."

Krista stood up. "It is okay. I was leaving." She gave an apologetic look to Webster hoping he would understand. He did and smiled. She walked off, placing his fate into the hands of the nurse, something she almost regretted after hearing the nurse's threat. That course of action would not be taken, obviously, but she knew he would be put through something. It would have happened anyway though so she continued passing by Thatch on her way out, noting the devilish grin he wore.

What Krista did not know was that Webster was not in trouble, at least he did not believe so. The nurse gave him some sort of reprimand, but not a single word got through. When he got to his bed, the grin was still present on Thatch's face. He eyed the paratrooper as he drifted in and out of a bliss induced daze. Webster came to eventually, glancing over at Thatch.

"Enjoy your visit?" Webster only smiled and fell back against his bed, picking up the book that Krista once held. He began to page through it, not seeing a single word.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Krista's trip took about twice as long as it should have. She walked at such a slow pace, taking time to appreciate every view possible. For the first time she acknowledged men's advances with a casual wave, smile or giggle. She was not in her right mind, but she did not care. Everything was great, everything was right, everything was going well for the first time in a while. There was no fear of lies, no fear of the enemy. The only thing she had to worry about was talking to Webster again. How she would do it, she did not know, but it did not matter, not yet. What she should have been worrying about was Megan.

"Where were you?!" Megan shouted, noticing that her harsh tone was not getting through to the unusually happy Krista. Anger always affected her in some way, shape or form. She was normally a delicate person, but not anymore. "You had me worried sick! I knock on your door to wake you up and there's no answer. I assume you're still asleep, but two hours pass by and nothing! You never sleep in! Then I go downstairs and lo and behold the hotel management said you stormed out in the middle of the night. Do you realize what could have happened to you? You don't even know where you're going!"

"I know." Krista collapsed on her bed, staring up at the ceiling in a child like way.

Megan sighed. "Then where were you?"

"At the hospital." She began to giggle.

"What is so funny?"

"I had a good visit." Megan now looked at her in a new light. There was a reason that Krista had come to Paris. She had mentioned something about it on the way to the hotel, something about a man she had not seen in a long time.

"How good of a visit?" she asked sitting next to Krista. The girl only looked up at her and smiled. "You know Lou and Chelsea will never shut up about this."

"Yes. Maybe they shut up about you?"

"Oh, don't make it look like you were doing this for me." Megan shoved Krista a little, the latter continuing to laugh. "I guess the vacation is over then. You won't be paying attention to anything I show you now."

Krista was not even paying attention to her now. All she could think about was the only perfect thing that had ever occurred to her, the only thing not ruined by the tragedies of war. Perhaps things were finally going to go her way.

* * *

Next chapter…the return of Easy Company! Please hold your applause…no really…okay okay, but just for a little while…no, you don't need to stand…oh, why thank you… :)

Ha ha! I had my sugar today. Cheers!


	16. Fun for a Change

Hey guys! I'm back. One week until I graduate! And even better, it's on D-Day. :)

Alright, this chapter ended up being completely different from what I had planned it to be, but I think that it's okay. Hopefully you'll be surprised, or concerned, or appalled. Depends on how you react to things.

A little note here. On July 21st, I'll be shipping off for basic training so you guys won't be hearing from me for a while, I'll put in a few chapters before I leave but then there will be silence for a good few months. I should get done by December with all of my training, but then I have college in January, but I shall not forget you! I'll be back!

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: Fun for a Change**

**November 1944**

**Mourmelon-le-Grand, France**

Megan was right. The girls could not stop talking. Of course, Krista never gave them a reason to. Ever since her visit to the hospital, everything had changed. Krista was more outspoken, lively. The trio began to wonder where the old Krista had gone.

It was destroyed, obliterated, never to return. Fate had had enough with her. It was out to bother someone else. She finally felt free to live her life without the fear of having to lose something close to her.

Krista wrote a letter to Webster, or tried to. Megan found herself unable to read the book she held because Krista constantly asked about her spelling errors. She wanted to sound smart, or at least smarter than what she usually was like. The girls giggled as they listened to Krista fret over how the letter sounded. It was the best entertainment that had happened in a while.

Webster had written her back. Once again Krista sought out Megan for help. He had a tendency of writing words that she did not know. It appeared that he found her letter quite entertaining; he read it a lot which brought some interesting questions from Thatch, who may have enjoyed the letters more than Webster did.

Other than the occasional letter, things were pretty boring around the house. The stream of casualties had slowed leaving the girls with plenty of time on their hands. They were thankful that fewer men were getting hurt, of course, but they wished that something interesting would happen. They began to consider the possibility of death by boredom.

Then Easy came into town.

Krista had heard the rumors for weeks, but she never really believed them. When the army said 'week' it meant 'month;' when it said 'month' it meant 'year.' She had been completely convinced the war would be long over by the time she saw the men again. Of course, she had never been the greatest guesser.

She was working at the hospital that day, going over paperwork that the doctor was too lazy to take care of. The others had taught her what to look out for, but most of it was simple. They were just discharge papers that needed to be filed.

The door opened, but Krista did not bother looking up. Throughout the day several people would walk in and out with a purpose that did not involve her so she would not inquire. However, this person was different. They sat across from her, refusing to make neither introductions nor any other form of speech. Still Krista did not look up.

"Can I help you?" she mumbled, tone uncaring.

The person shifted in the seat and sighed, sounding almost uncomfortable. They remained silent until Krista looked up out of frustration. Her mood did not last long, though, as her eyes fell upon the visitor. Her mouth dropped open, but her voice was nowhere to be found.

Roe smiled. "Easy Company arrived here a couple days ago and they were wondering, if you had the time, if you would like to see them."

"Eugene!" Krista stood quickly nearly knocking over the desk, and Roe, as she ran to the other side. Roe stood as well, if only to brace himself as Krista hugged him. Those weeks they had been apart felt like forever, felt longer than the two years she had been on her own. Now it seemed as though they had only been apart for days and that her sadness was nothing more than a child's complaint. "They are here?"

"They wouldn't let me come by myself." Krista held back the urge to jump from the pure glee that was flowing through her body, but a thought suddenly fell upon her.

"Oh, but I…have to work." A cough came from the outside. Krista turned to see Megan, Chelsea and Lou standing just past the doorway.

"We'll take care of it."Chelsea said.

It was a beautiful, sunny day, very warm for late November. The bit of snow that had fallen was beginning to melt, making the roads muddy and undesirable for travel, but the pair paid no attention to how dirty their shoes got as they headed for the barracks the men were staying in.

"Tell me everything." Krista said, unable to contain her excitement. "What has happened?"

For the next few minutes Roe filled her in on all the details from the rescue of the Brits to the unfortunate departure of Heyliger to their new commander, one Norman Dike, Foxhole Norman as most men liked to call him.

"The man is never around," Roe said as they neared a building. "He's always making calls somewhere, probably taking to his CO about when he can get promoted and get out of here." He paused and looked at her. "But you don't need to hear about that. We're off the line, the war is almost over and most of the guys have passes to Paris coming their way. None of us should be complaining."

Krista opened her mouth to object, but said nothing. She understood how he felt.

The two entered one of the larger buildings, every inch of the inside recently cleaned by the men of Easy Company. The bunks were neatly lined up, all the items folded away so that there was little evidence of occupancy.

"Where are they?" Krista asked, looking around.

"They're outside doing PT, mostly training for the football game…not your football." Roe added after seeing the look on Krista's face.

"Then it is not football." Laughing, Roe led her around the area until they stumbled upon the rest of Easy. They were lined up in the middle of the field practicing football under the watchful, yet uninterested, eye of their new commander. From what Krista saw, he appeared to be a very dull man, but at least he was there. While most of the time he was gone, the time was not spent sleeping. Perhaps he would get it together at some point.

She watched the men in the distance as they tackled each other and ran about. They were enjoying themselves. It was a lovely sight to see; she almost regretted having to interrupt them, but then she remembered Webster's reaction and did not mind it as much.

There was a face in the field she did not recognize at first, though, but the blonde hair soon triggered a memory and she smiled. Compton had come back. She had not seen him since that first day when her secret was safe while her sanity was not. That was years ago now, but his kind smile had not dimmed in her memory. She had changed so much, but he had not. Perhaps she was the unrecognizable one.

Her first few steps onto the field went unnoticed, but after a while a few heads started to turn, some stopped in their tracks while others began to make their way over. Compton looked around at his team like they were out of their minds, then he looked to where they were headed. Krista had been right. He did not recognize her, not one bit; he only began to walk over because he wanted to meet the distraction himself.

Luz was the first person to reach her. "You know, for one second I thought you were someone I knew, but you're too happy to be her." Krista frowned. "See, now I recognize you."

"You play football?"

Liebgott came upon Luz's right. "You kidding me, he is the football."

"Yeah, and you're the goalpost. Shut up, Lieb." Krista began to laugh. She missed this. The other men surrounded her and got their chance to evaluate the new Krista. They liked it, but her reason behind the change, that she refused to reveal, made them a little wary. There was no doubt in her mind that Muck was already planning a new pool.

It was now that Compton came over, his curiosity only doubled by the warm welcomes from the others. As he approached Krista, he could not help but notice similarities to a girl he once knew, a girl long gone. She smiled then and he remembered. He remembered her laughter and how nice it had sounded.

"I remember you." He whispered, looking at her in almost disbelief. Krista extended her hand, giving him the proper introduction that she had avoided the last time.

"Hello, Buck. I am Krista."

"It's nice to finally know your name."

Toye interrupted. "The reunion is touching and all, but we still got a game to prepare for." Krista elbowed him. She then looked around the stands.

"Where is Foxhole Norman?" Laughter erupted.

"Not in the crowd, thankfully." Buck observed.

"He's making his phone call to HQ." Muck said. "Gotta tell them how many times he took a breath in the past five minutes. It's for a very important study."

"_Very_ important," Penkala reinforced.

"Don't worry about him." Malarkey said, "He won't notice you unless you slap him in the face."

"And even then, whether he'll react or not is still up in the air." Muck added. Many heads began to nod.

"Well, if he doesn't react to you guys talking about him, he doesn't deserve to command, but let's not wait to find out." For the rest of the afternoon Krista watched them play, observing the American sport for the first time. It was a lot like the rugby she had seen, but at the same time, far from it, but it was definitely not the football she knew. They never even used their feet, how could they call it that?

She smiled at the questions she asked now. They used to be of why or of acceptance. Now she was questioning the naming of sports. It did not matter what the news said, the war was over, for her and for them.

"They got you as a cheerleader now, huh?" Krista turned around to meet the man she had been waiting to see for some time: her husband.

"Hello, Bill." She said, hiding her excitement.

Guarnere sighed. "I go AWOL from the hospital, get caught, get demoted, go AWOL again and all you can give me is a 'hello Bill?' What did they do to you while I was gone?"

"Nothing. I was not here."

"They discovered you?" Guarnere paused, realization dawning. "It was my fault, wasn't it?"

"It is okay. I am here now…what is AWOL?"

"Something I shouldn't do."

Krista ignored how lacking his answer was. "Demoted?"

"Something you don't need to worry about."

"Cheerleader?"

"Something someone other than me should give you the definition of." Krista laughed and shook her head. He was ridiculous, always had been, and that was what she had missed most; he had a personality that could make her smile on the most terrible of days.

Guarnere wrapped his arm around her, pushing her in the direction of the field. "Care to learn some football?"

"No."

"Too bad." They continued to walk that way until the football intercepted their path. Krista thought it was going to hit her at first until Guarnere swung his arm down and caught it. "What the hell are you aiming at? You want to kill her?" His gaze automatically went to Buck who merely shook his head. The rest of the group pointed sheepishly back and forth to each other.

"We were aiming for you!" Someone finally shouted, unidentifiable and no one pointed him out.

"Your aim is about as good as the Germans!"

"Didn't keep them from hitting you," Buck replied.

"A _sniper_ hit me in _the leg_. How good do you think the rest are, Buck?"

"I'd say they get pretty lucky." Guarnere paid little attention to the last remark. He tossed the football up and down, then looked at Krista.

"Wanna learn how to throw a football?"

"No."

He tossed it to her. "Good." Krista barely caught the ball, juggling with it for a long time. Some snickered, others felt bad, others smiled, most just glared at Guarnere as he did his typical thing. Guarnere tried to explain it to her, showing Krista how to hold the ball properly.

Perconte smiled at how badly Guarnere was failing at his teaching. "Maybe Buck should do it." He received two glares.

"Not try to throw it."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I do not want to."

"C'mon."

Krista sighed. "Can I throw at you?"

"Sure."

"She means without you catching it, Bill." Toye translated.

"Shut up."

Giving in before the argument went any further, Krista threw the football to Buck. He nodded approvingly at how decent she had thrown it despite just learning the sport that day. Guarnere beamed with pride.

"You Germans are good at everything, aren't you?"

Buck grew confused again. "She's German?" A bunch of excuses were made and the men quickly pushed him out of the way. They began to explain it to him. When he was near the back of the group, Guarnere whispered.

"So, did you hear about the dance?"

* * *

In the couple hours that she had been gone, a dance had been planned for the men coming off the line as a way to unwind from the days on it, the commanders informed and the news spread throughout the entire city. When Krista returned home to inform the girls, they were already discussing how to get ready. The dressers and closets had been ransacked as had the places where they stashed extra money.

"There's going to be a dance!" Lou shouted as she ran up to Krista. "It's tomorrow night!"

"So soon?"

"Keeping the men from getting too far way." Megan said coming down the stairs. "And from taking all the good women."

Lou looked at her. "Is the Lieutenant coming?"

"No, he's back on duty. Can't say where, but I figure it's near the Hürtgen Forest. That's where everyone is these days."

"So that leaves you available to dance with a certain Captain." Both Megan and Krista glared at Lou, who merely smiled, and refused to say anything. The steps creaked, like they always did, as Chelsea now entered the lower floor, already wearing her pick for the dance. It was a little red thing, tight enough to show off the curves to her satisfaction. "Oh, that's nice. Where'd you get it?"

"It's a secret."

"Of course. Out to impress someone in particular?"

Krista interrupted. "Buck and Bill are here." Lou and Chelsea stopped in their place and turned toward her for a moment. Chelsea spoke first before she ran up the stairs.

"I need a new dress." Lou followed quickly.

Megan looked Krista over. "I'm going to assume the entirety of Easy Company asked you to accompany them so that means you need a dress." Krista frowned. She hated shopping. She was not a fan of dressing fancy or buying a large amount of clothing that may never be worn twice. The thought of getting a dress that would most definitely never see the light of day again was a little frustrating.

* * *

The following evening, the men of Easy Company lined up outside Krista's house, at least they hoped that was it. Mourmelon-le-Grand was neither too big nor too complicated, but the men had managed to get lost several times already. If this was also the wrong place, they would not be surprised.

There was movement upstairs. One of the curtains moved. The men smiled; they had found the right place.

Light flooded the quickly darkening street as the door opened. Out walked Megan, Chelsea and Lou in their picks for the dance. Chelsea had decided to stick with the red, too chicken to try anything else. Lou wore a long, blue dress, something that surprised the other occupants. Megan wore a simple brown dress, nothing too elegant. There was no need to attract unwanted attention.

"So, there are four of us and…" Chelsea counted the men, "Eight of you. One for each arm." Lou and Chelsea beamed at the thought.

"I hate to point it out," Luz said. "But your counting is a little off. There are only three of you."

"Yeah, where's Krista?" Toye asked.

Chelsea put her hand up and silenced the group. "She is inside, but before we bring her out for the grand unveiling, could Bill Guarnere come up here please?" The men looked in his direction, but for a moment Guarnere hesitated. He did not trust these women that stood before him nor did he trust Krista, who undoubtedly had something to do with this.

Tentatively he walked forward. The girls began to giggle; the men looked at him more curiously than ever.

"What'd you do, Bill?" Malarkey whispered.

"How the hell should I know?" Guarnere replied.

Choosing to not explain the past event, Chelsea continued. "Now it's time for you guys to see the one girl you've been waiting for."

"A little warning: you may not be able to recognize her." Megan continued.

Lou finished, "But we're sure you'll appreciate the view." They began to laugh again making the men nervous. The enemy seemed less confusing, which was probably true. They were also less frightening.

"Don't look so scared," Chelsea said after the laughter had subsided. "No one's going to hurt you." A few more giggles.

Megan opened the door enough so she could stick her head in.

"Are you ready?"

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"I do not want to do it."

"Why? Are you afraid of the spotlight?" She watched Krista nod. "Well, I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but you're always in the spotlight when you're with Easy Company. Besides, you'll be fine. You're going to knock their socks off."

"What?"

"You'll know what I mean when you see it. Now when the door opens, just walk out and look cute." Megan shut the door once more leaving Krista in the dark again. It was hard to tell who was more scared of the opening door, her or the men.

Krista heard mumbled sentences and laughter from outside the door once again. It was not helping her situation. When the door open, she held her breath, fully believing that she would not be able to move forward, but to her surprise, her legs began to take small steps forward. Reaching the outside, she tried to smile as though she were apart of it though it was thrust upon her as suddenly as it had been on the men. When she saw the looks on their faces, though, the smile became genuine. 'Knock their socks off' came to mind.

They had gone to the one decent shop in town that day after they got over the shock of how much money Krista had stored away in a little box under her bed. She took the first thing she saw and tried it on, hoping that it would be enough so they could get back. It was a small, black dress, simple yet elegant. Krista thought it had looked okay though she was a little awkward in it. According to the men, that was not true.

Her brown hair was down for the first time in a while, a natural wave working its way through it. The girls had become jealous of how little it needed to be worked on. They became jealous of many things that night, but Krista would never notice.

Krista began to walk down the steps, praying she would not trip in the heels that she had barely grown accustomed to. She took the outstretched hand of Guarnere, prayers doubling. Falling into his arms was the last thing she needed.

"And the happy couple reunites." Chelsea narrated, breaking into laughter with the others. The men snickered a little even though they did not get it. Even Krista laughed and Guarnere looked at her as though he had been betrayed.

"Okay, wait as second," he said, looking over Krista's head. "What the hell is going on here?"

Megan smiled. "What, can't remember your own wife?"

Krista watched a variety of emotions play on his face. He was frozen, still holding her hand though the grip felt looser. His eyes slowly made their way down to her, looking at her in a way that made her curious. She smiled innocently.

His face became serious once more. "Would you care to explain, honey?"

"Later." She let go of his hand and walked toward the other men.

"Later. Jesus, why later?"

"Because I said so." Krista linked arms with Luz and Malarkey. "Where is the party?" They both smiled, their confusion turned into appreciation for a good joke. The three led the way down the street.

Heffron snickered. "It sure sounds like you're married."

Guarnere was about to do something rash when Lou grabbed his arm. "Don't worry about it. You take things too seriously. Now loosen up and escort me to the dance."

He gave her a once over. She was a pretty good looking girl. Normally he would have no problem obliging but not tonight. "Well, that depends. Am I being unfaithful?" Her grip tightened and she began to drag him forward. They followed Krista's group and were soon joined by Heffron who was not done poking fun at Guarnere. Chelsea followed with Toye and Muck on either side of her and Megan with Randleman and Roe. The groups eventually came together and small conversations started off. Guarnere avoided the obvious knowing it would get him nowhere.

The Red Cross had a club in town, set up by Division, where the dance was being held. It looked crowded already and the dance had only been on for half an hour. Some people had taken to dancing in the street where the music could still be perfectly heard. The men had anticipated this, which was why only eight appeared at the girls' doorstep. It took the rest of Easy to secure a decent place to sit.

Introductions aside, the group settled into the tables they had captured, feeling it was too early to dance. The girls were conveniently shoved into the corner. Men outnumbered women at least three to one. They needed to hang on to the ones they had.

Chelsea leaned over to Krista. "I thought you said Buck was here."

"He is," Krista replied. "He is just not…here."

"You're a big help."

"How was your walk with Guarnere?" Megan asked Lou, expecting some crazy reaction.

Lou shrugged. "He was too distracted by the whole marriage joke. I don't think I can compete." She did not seem too crushed which was something the other three expected. "Besides, between him and Babe I couldn't get a word in, not too mention understand anything they said."

Men came to attention as officers entered but it was quickly waved off. They did not want to disturb the dance. The men hardly got these opportunities. Amongst the group were a very at ease Compton, a suspicious looking Nixon and an out of place looking Winters. He looked uncomfortable in the surroundings. The place was filled with people, smoke and alcohol. Krista was too distracted by other things or else she would probably look the same.

A slow song came on and Krista got an idea. She stood from the table, leaving the girls to watch in wonder. The men looked about ready to drag her back but relaxed when they saw where she was headed. She spoke to both Nixon and Compton, and pointed in the direction of the girls. Chelsea smiled. Megan did not.

Compton got to the table first and quickly got Chelsea out on the dance floor, the latter mouthing 'thanks' toward Krista the entire way. Megan looked for support from Lou only to discover that she had disappeared, along with a couple of the men. She sighed. Alone again.

Nixon stood before her. "Now before you shoot me down, let me get a word in," he said as Megan crossed her arms. "Krista has informed me that you are married and what a coincidence, so am I. As a married woman, you won't get much of a chance to dance with someone without getting some form of flirtation. I am the solution to that problem."

Krista watched them from a distance. She was not sure what he said, but Nixon eventually got Megan on the dance floor. She was laughing. It was a good sign.

"It's good to see you again, Krista." Winters said, sounding uncomfortable still.

"It is good to see you." She replied, getting an idea. "Want to?" she asked, pointing to the crowd.

Winters looked a little paler. "No, no thanks."

"Why not?"

"I don't like dancing."

"There is no room to dance. It is standing."

Winters sighed. She did have a point. People were barely moving it was so crowded. "Alright."

Krista smiled, grabbing his hand and leading him out into the crowd. Winters tried to ignore the entertained stares of his men, but he knew it was useless. He felt his face getting red; he thought to say something so he could go back to the relative safety of the bar, but the look on Krista's face prevented him from doing so. She was having fun; he did not want to ruin that.

They moved around in little circles as all the others did, not having room for anything extravagant, much to the relief of Winters. His hands barely touched her waist while hers were wrapped lazily around him. They were quite the pair.

"Hey, Dick," called out Nixon, as he and Megan inched their way over. "Enjoying yourself?"

"You'd have to ask that, wouldn't you?" Winters replied, staring off in the opposite direction on purpose. Krista smiled at Megan who made no response, still upset over what Krista had done despite the fact that she liked it.

"C'mon, it's just a dance. What's the worst that could happen?"

"I'd rather not think about that." After a few more awkward moments, the song finally came to an end. Winters tried not to be rude as he left the dance floor but Krista understood. She got him out once, that was good enough. The floor was cleared for a jitterbug competition and Krista watched as Heffron got on to the floor almost as quickly as Winters got off.

The rest of the night passed as a blur. Watching the jitterbug was very entertaining. It was something that no one could beat Heffron at, as well as something he would brag about for a while. There were several more songs, each one with a different partner. She had almost worked her way through the entire company when her legs finally gave out on her. She made her way to one of the tables and collapsed into a chair, kicking off the heels she wore with a sigh; she could have fallen asleep right then and there despite the continuing loud music in the background.

"Is this later enough for you?"

Krista sighed and then smiled as she turned to Guarnere. "Why do you care?"

"Why do I care?" Guarnere sat up in his seat. "One of your new pals just called you my wife. Now for a guy who believes he is single, I find this a little surprising."

"It is a joke."

"I don't really care what it is. Could we please talk?"

Krista sighed again, looking around at the dance. She did owe him some sort of explanation, if only to keep him from blowing it any more out of proportion than he already had. She nodded, putting her shoes back on once more and ignoring the pain as she stepped outside with Guarnere. Men were still out there dancing, taking advantage of the cool night air. They stood in the center of the road, knowing that no traffic was going to come through. Krista explained to him the details of Nixon's little plan. A smile slowly crossed his face.

"He better not accidently file those or I'm gonna have some explaining to do back home."

"Nixon would have to explain first."

"Yeah, he'd be lucky he was an officer…geez and what would the guys think?" They both sat silent for a while, each playing different scenarios and coming up with the same result: complete and utter embarrassment, so real that both of them reddened slightly.

"That would not be good," Krista said, trying to laugh it away.

"No, it wouldn't. No, but at least you don't have to be stuck with them all the time."

"True."

The music inside the club changed. The pace slowed once again. No doubt couples were getting together while single men searched for someone they could dance with. She began to wonder if anyone was looking for her. Someone would have, if he were there. How much fun was he having that night? She felt bad then, being happy while others suffered.

Guarnere noticed. He offered a hand. "Care for a dance?" Krista stayed silent. "C'mon, I'm the only guy you haven't danced with and I should have been the first. You owe me one."

Krista sighed and took his hand. They danced slowly at first, close together as though they were still inside, but soon they spread out more, realizing all the room they had.

"Do you know what song this is?" Guarnere asked. Krista shook her head. "It's Moonlight Serenade by a guy named Glenn Miller. Malarkey loves him. He's probably trying to look for you right now so he can tell you all about him. Consider yourself lucky you're out here with me."

"Is it always better with you?"

"I'd like to think so." While Krista gave him a funny look, she watched his characteristic devilish grin form. "How about we step up the pace a bit, huh?" Before Krista could react, Guarnere grabbed her tightly and brought her down into a dip. She shrieked, attracting a few curious eyes, and then began to laugh. Guarnere kept his smile, enjoying her laughter. It was something he would never get tired of. "What, no one else tried this on you?"

"They did not want to hurt me." Krista replied as Guarnere brought her back up.

"What, don't you trust me?"

"No."

"Now you've gone and hurt my feelings, Krista."

"What feelings?"

Guarnere tried to look hurt but there was amusement in his eyes. "Geez, what have these nurses been teaching you? They're turning you against us."

Krista began to laugh again as they continued to dance, covering the entire street, hopping on curbs, Krista was even lifted onto a bench once. It was a very entertaining sight, what Guarnere referred to as a scene from a Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movie. They were fairly good together, it was almost surprising.

"Alright, I'm gonna dip you again," Guarnere whispered as the song neared the end. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, I- AM!" He did it quick, making sure to catch her off guard. More shrieking, more laughter.

Guarnere shook his head. "No, you're not."

"You…cheated."

"No I didn't, you're just easy to scare." He pulled her up again as another song started. Krista sighed and her shoulders slumped; she was tired. "You want to head back?"

Krista nodded, stifling a yawn. "Yes, I would like that."

They walked along the empty streets of Mourmelon in a strange yet comfortable silence. Each knew that the other had something on their mind, though they did not know what. Their own thoughts were a mystery.

The silence was interrupted by a cracking sound. Krista felt herself fall sideways, toward Guarnere, her ankle not appreciating the movement. Guarnere caught her easily, as though he expected it.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," Krista said, quickly getting out of his grasp to examine her shoe. The heel had broken, of course. She sighed, putting too much weight on her ankle, and winced. "No."

"Alright then." Guarnere bent down and, with one swift move, scooped Krista up into his arms. "We'll have to keep going like this."

"Are you sure?" Krista asked, feeling rather uncomfortable with the situation. If any of the girls saw, she would never hear the end of it. "What if someone sees?"

"After everything you've been through, you're afraid of someone seeing you now?" Guarnere shook his head. The conversation now picked up, the two discussing what happened while they were away. It was strange that they could only start talking after he picked her up, but neither of them noticed.

"So you're telling me that Lou was completely head over heels for me?"

"Yes."

"Funny, after I walked her to the dance, I didn't see much of her. The last time she was with Toye."

Krista shrugged. "I do not understand her."

"I don't understand anybody, especially you."

She shrugged again, smiling. Her house loomed in the distance. The journey was so much longer than it had been when they left. It was something she did not mind at all. No doubt Guarnere had set the pace on purpose. He continued up to the steps and gently set her down on the top. They stood there for a while, unsure of what to do. Guarnere put his hands in his pockets, digging for an answer. Krista looked at her now bare feet.

"So, uh…I guess nobody's home." Guarnere mumbled after a while. "Maybe you'll have the place all to yourself tonight."

Krista looked at him with almost accusation in her eyes. "Megan is married."

"Oh…guess that wouldn't be too good." He paused, "Well, I should get back to the dance. You know, I ain't had a single drink the whole night because of you? All I could think about was why people called you my wife."

Krista smiled, "I am sorry you could not drink."

"No you're not." Krista laughed a little. "See, you're not."

She smiled, "No, I am not."

Guarnere nodded, lost again. "Well, uh…good night then."

"Good night."

He walked down the steps and made it halfway to the street before he turned around; he looked at her like he never had before and Krista felt a chill go up her spine. She was almost embarrassed by how he looked at her, like he was seeing something that she did not want him to see, noticing something for the first time. Guarnere began to walk again, not toward the street but to her, faster than before. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her with such passion that she could not help but give in.

She felt something so different and yet the same. Any regret was drowned by some other emotion. When Guarnere moved his hand she got the same tingling sensation. Was this right? Could it be possible? She could not think as he kissed her, nor did she want to.

Somehow he picked her up again and opened the door. It had been left unlocked due to the certainty that everyone would lose their key. He brought her inside, looking at her the same way. She smiled and kissed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck. He managed to look around the house. Everything was dark. He could see nothing.

"Where the hell am I going?" Guarnere whispered. He let Krista go. Her foot no longer hurt as she led him down the hallway, her hand firmly in his. When she began to climb the stairs, Guarnere followed, but in the darkness he could not see where he was going. Something had been left on the steps. It tripped him up and he fell down. Krista could not help but laugh as she went to his side.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Guarnere looked a little stunned and embarrassed as he sat sprawled out at the bottom of the steps. "I cannot carry you."

He looked at her. "Then this'll do." He grabbed her again, pulling her towards him, kissing her once more. Now something asked her to stop but she ignored it as her hand went to unbutton his jacket. His hands were at her sides, pulling up her dress.

"Hello?" A voice called. It was Megan's. Krista and Guarnere stared at each other in horror as her footsteps got closer. "Which one of you guys left the door open?" Krista moved over quickly, sitting on the steps and fixing her hair. Guarnere hurridly buttoned up his jacket. They continued to sit there as Megan came over. She jumped a little in surprise at seeing them. "Hey Krista…Bill."

"Hi, Megan." Guarnere replied, looking down. Krista was too embarrassed to speak.

"What are you guys doing?"

Guarnere began to tap his foot on the ground. "We're, uh…sitting on these steps."

Megan nodded slowly. "I can see that."

"Yeah…yeah you can. Uh…Krista hurt herself. Her shoe broke and, uh, her ankle and…I carried her in here."

Megan looked at Krista, believing that part of the story. "Does it hurt, Krista? Are you okay?"

For the first time, Krista looked up at Megan. "I am fine…now. Thank you, Bill."

"No problem." Guarnere replied, standing up. "I, uh…I'm going to head back now. See if I can't get that drink."

"I'll go with…to the door." Krista added, standing up as well, following Guarnere to the door. Megan watched the two from the bottom of the staircase, confused and suspicious. Guarnere walked out the door and turned back to look at Krista, noting the audience they still had.

"Good night, Krista."

"Good night." She tried to smile but it faded quickly. As soon as Guarnere was out of sight, she turned back to Megan. "Are you going to bed?" she asked as innocently as possible.

Megan stared at her for a few moments. "You'll tell me eventually." She then began to climb the stairs and disappeared into their room. Krista opted to stay downstairs, sitting at the table in the dining room. Trigger was asleep in the corner, unaware of any of the events.

Krista sighed and looked at the mail on the table.

At the top was a letter from Webster.

* * *

Oh the drama! It's turning into a soap, I believe.

I think Krista's new favorite word is 'no.'

And the phrase is 'are you okay?'

lol


	17. Making Them Worry

Only a month left! Oh, I'm going to miss writing these! This fanfiction will keep me going! I shall return!

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Making Them Worry**

**December 1944**

**Mourmelon-le-Grand, France**

Krista refused to leave the house, except for work, but out of concern for her welfare, her boss had given her some time off. It was a mixed blessing. There was no chance of meeting someone that she did not want to, which was anyone from Easy Company at this point, but it did leave her time to herself, alone with her thoughts once more.

She never responded to Webster's letter, did not even open it. How could she? Reading his words would only make matters worse. She had betrayed the world he now lived in. Perhaps if she did nothing, he would remember that this was reality. If only she could convince herself that she was doing this for him.

Fate had come back, revenge its only goal. Krista could not be happy, it was not allowed. Had she not been through enough? Must she continue to suffer? Whose side was fate on? It was not on her side, but then again it was not on anyone's.

No, no she could not blame fate, not this time. It had placed before her the circumstances, but it was she who chose to react. She did not choose to kill her brother, she did not choose to kill Pierre, she did not choose to put her father through what he did, but she chose to give in. it was her fault, may fate finally act accordingly.

The snow fell often now. Krista sat in front of the top window watching it drift back and forth across the street. Below her the three girls were heading to work, bundled up tightly. Megan took a moment to look up at her, but got the usual response: nothing.

She sighed, catching up to the others. There seemed to be no point anymore. Chelsea and Lou had given up a long time ago, having been occupied by other things. Chelsea had hit it off with Buck and saw him quite frequently. Lou was with someone but she refused to spill, forcing the girls into the process of elimination. They still had a long way to go. Megan saw Nixon every now and then. She enjoyed talking to him, though it gave the other girls a reason to gossip.

Krista did not care. She watched them leave and then continued to watch the distance. Many times men had asked for her, but she would not come out and the girls did not want to do anything that would upset her, though now it was tempting.

Krista sighed, plopping down on her bed, now staring at the ceiling. There was almost a hole burned into it now, she stared at it so much. Her eyes moved momentarily, landing on Trigger who sat staring at her.

"_Don't look at me like that," _she said in German, turning away. Trigger barked. _"What?"_ Krista turned back again, quick to anger these days. Trigger moved back slightly, surprised by her reaction. She frowned. _"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. What do you want? Do you want to go outside?"_ He barked again.

It was one of the few things that would get her to go outside. Many trucks passed through the town as of late and the last thing she needed was a dead dog to add to her guilt.

As she headed to the door, with Trigger right at her heels, she passed the dining room. The letter was still there, untouched since it had been set down. It silently taunted her, mocked her, accused her. Something inside screamed at her, but could not be heard. Only if she opened it would the words get out. Despite her hatred of it, it held her gaze, until Trigger began to whine.

Krista turned away. _"Alright, alright, I'm going."_ She opened the door, allowing Trigger to bolt out into the snow. _"Beyond me why you want to go out at a time like…" _Her voice trailed off as she looked to where Trigger ran. There was a person standing in the street, debating whether to get closer until they saw her. He pet Trigger a little when he ran up, but ignored him after that. Trigger soon moved on, but the man did not. He and Krista continued to stare at each other for some time. She could not recognize him, the snow was in the way, but she thought of two possibilities, neither one better than the other. Krista began to turn, not wanting to face the inevitable.

"Krista, wait!" She knew the voice. It was Liebgott. A small wave of relief passed over her for he was not one of the two, but she still did not wish to see him. There was too much to explain. Guarnere would have said nothing, but they would know something was wrong. She could not face that. "Please."

She stopped and stood still for a while, ignoring how cold her body had become since she had no jacket on. Her thoughts scattered with the wind; she had no idea what to do. It was Liebgott though. He was her friend and she could trust him, so she turned to face him. Of course, if she had been inside when he came, everything would have been different. Nothing would have gotten her out to face him.

He walked up to her slowly, afraid she might run off if he went any faster. Perhaps she would have. The scene reminded her too much of the night of the dance. She almost began to back up but willed herself to stay. The past could not be changed and this was not it anyway.

He stopped in front of her and waited, not sure what to say. He had not planned it out that far. Krista would say nothing, just standing still was difficult.

His voice was low, "Where have you been?"

The wind spoke for a while.

"I have been here."

"This whole time?" She nodded. We hoped you had been transferred somewhere, didn't have time to tell us, but when we asked…why won't you see us?" She remained silent and looked at the ground. No excuse was good enough, even if it was the truth.

Liebgott began to get angry. "Damn it Krista, everyone's worried about you. They think you're dying or something and you won't take the time to show them that you're fine. I mean, Guarnere is practically a mute now and he is never quiet. And-″ He saw her face fall at Guarnere's name. "What is it?"

She tried to brush it off, "Nothing."

"This doesn't happen because of nothing, Krista." He thought for a moment. "Did Guarnere do something to you, because if he did I will-″

"No!" Krista shouted, showing the first true sign of life to him. "No, he did nothing."

"Then what is it?" Liebgott asked, grabbing her shoulders. Krista could not look away from him, there was nowhere to hide. Confronted with the truth, she could not help but feel herself slip.

"_I can't tell you. I can't. I can't."_

Liebgott held her tighter. _"You can't hide behind your German. What can't you tell me?"_

Krista shook her head, feeling the tears, feeling herself falling apart. Despite Liebgott's hold, she sank to the ground, drawing her knees in and holding herself there like a child. She continued to shake her head as Liebgott kneeled down to her, his concern overpowering.

"_I can't. I can't. You would not understand. I am a terrible person. I've hurt people. I can't do this anymore. I was better off before. At least I would have died."_

Liebgott could not believe what he was hearing. What could have happened that would do this to her? The night of the dance she was the liveliest girl in the area, happier than they had ever seen her, but now it was as though her brother died again, even worse. They were losing her again, and Liebgott could not help but feel that there was nothing they could do this time.

"_Krista, what happened?"_

She actually stopped moving and looked at him, giving him as much of an explanation as he would get from her. _"Everything happened."_ With that she stood up, heading quickly to the door. Krista whistled, gaining immediately the attention of Trigger who leapt through the snow in her direction. He ran inside, shaking off the snow in the hallway. She did not care if it got wet. No one did at this point.

"_Thank you for coming." _Krista whispered before she walked inside, leaving Liebgott alone with no answers but more questions.

Inside, Krista stopped at the dining room again, looking at the letter. She grabbed it and made her way upstairs.

* * *

Guarnere was in the barracks by himself, the sounds of football practice dully playing in the background. He, too, stared at the ceiling, lying on his bed. So many thoughts raced through his mind, he could hardly sort them. He had not seen Krista for days, no one had. Many thought it was strange and a little concerning, after all the old Krista would have spent as much time as possible with them. Some blamed it on whatever happened when she was gone; Guarnere was fairly certain it had something to do with him.

It was something he did not understand and this time it was not one of those girl things that could just not be explained. No, there was something definitely wrong, but what to do about it, he was not sure. Several times he had almost brought himself to her home but changed his mind last minute. He may only make the situation worse, whatever it was. She seemed fine when he left, a little freaked out because of Megan, but so was he, so what could be the problem?

Guarnere sat up, using the trunk in front of his bed as a footrest. He looked down at the floor for any better ideas. There were none, of course, so he looked around the room. It was empty and lifeless, like it had been all day. He sighed and put his head down, trying not to think, trying not to hear whatever crazy stories his mind came up with.

A door opened but Guarnere did not move. The footsteps came closer but he did not care. When they stopped in front of him, he finally stirred, his vision barely adjusting before he was knocked back over the bed and onto the ground, his jaw pulsing. He sat on the concrete floor rubbing it as the person got closer.

"What the hell did you do to her?"

Guarnere looked up, recognizing Liebgott.

"What the hell did I do to who?"

"Don't play stupid. You know who I'm talking about."

Guarnere stood up. "Jesus Christ, Liebgott, you know something I don't know? I didn't do anything to anyone."

Liebgott was not about to take that. The anger in his voice rose, the volume loud enough to be heard from the outside, though muffled.

"Then explain to me why Krista just had a breakdown when I saw her and it started when I mentioned you!" Guarnere froze, a genuinely surprised and concerned look growing on his face. There was guilt now, though he still could not see a reason for it, but the words that Liebgott said brought it up nonetheless. He said nothing, shock keeping him silent. What had he done?

Liebgott looked ready to hit him again. "Well?"

Guarnere still said nothing, but tried to move past Liebgott to get to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna see Krista," he replied, bound and determined now to fix whatever he did.

"Like hell you are." Liebgott grabbed Guarnere and turned him around, punching him once more. At first Guarnere tried not to do anything, but since Liebgott insisted he continued the fight, getting in a few decent hits. They scuffled for a while until they were pulled apart by other member of Easy who had heard Liebgott yelling before.

"What the hell is the matter with you two!?" Martin shouted as he and Luz pulled Liebgott one way while Malarkey and Randleman pulled Guarnere in the other direction. "You're lucky it was just us who came in here."

The two acted as though no one else was there.

"Godammit Liebgott, I did nothing to her. I'm about as confused as you are. You oughtta know that I would never do anything to hurt her." The other four exchanged confused glances.

"Well, you sure did something." Liebgott replied, calming down.

"And I'm going to fix it. If she gets worse, I'll _let_ you shoot me." Guarnere shrugged out of Martin and Luz's grasp and began to head to the door. Liebgott got loose as well but did not go after him this time, somewhat accepting what Guarnere had given him.

"Is that a promise?"

"It's a guarantee."

* * *

Megan watched Krista sitting on her bed from the doorway. Lou and Chelsea were out somewhere, most likely at the Red Cross club since there were not many other places around to go to. Krista stared at the letter that had been on the table for a few weeks. She had been doing that ever since Megan came back from the hospital, maybe even for some time before then. She could not take seeing Krista like this anymore. Her pity had turned to annoyance; she wanted Krista to get over whatever it was.

She walked into the room carefully, as slowly as Liebgott had before, though there was no place for her to escape to this time. Krista hardly noticed her presence, eyes still glued to the letter.

"Are you ever planning to open that?" Megan asked, sitting on her own bed next to Krista's. The girl shrugged but other than that did not move. "Alright Krista, this has gone on long enough. I'm tired of all the moping around and the self pity you're drowning yourself in. Either get over it or tell me what's going on so I can help you."

Krista sighed. She knew that she would have to do something. She had been thinking about that for some time after Liebgott left. There was no point in staying this way forever. It was helping nothing, perhaps just complicating things even more. People were worried about her. She was hurting too many.

"I…is it…can you…like two people?" She did not look in Megan's direction but seemed to be asking the wall.

Megan was silent for a moment, a little surprised by what Krista said but then again, she should have expected it. She stood up and moved to sit on Krista's bed, carefully moving the letter aside.

"It's Bill, isn't it?" Krista nodded. "I guess I should have figured it out days ago. I just never thought to."

Now Megan sighed. She was not sure how to go about this. Krista waited patiently in silence as Megan thought over what to do. "I don't envy your position, Krista, even excluding everything else that has happened to you. I watch how you act with these guys and how they are with you and I realized that you could marry any one of them and be happy for the rest of your life. And it would be the same for any them. This may sound stupid, but maybe you're lucky it's just two."

Krista thought about it for a while, slowly believing that what Megan said was true. Everything was even more complicated than she thought, which only made her feel more worse than before, though somewhere there was a little relief.

"It was better before," she whispered, almost missing the days at the front line when life seemed short but simple. There was no time to think of such things there.

"It probably was, but you're not there anymore. You can't just hide from things you don't want to face." Krista became angry at this statement. She had been through so much, had she not earned the right to hide from her problems just this once. Megan had no idea what she had been through, even if she told her to imagine it would be impossible. She had no right to judge. But she was not judging. She made a good point. She had never hidden before, why should she start now?

The silence that had fallen was interrupted by a knock at the door. The two girls looked at each other for a moment.

"Who's here this late?" Megan asked as she headed to the window. She moved the curtain. "Oh."

"What?"

Megan turned to her. "Would you care to face your problems now?" Krista was prepared to say no but she could tell that Megan would not take that as an answer. Sighing, Krista stood up and made her way downstairs. She stared at the door for a long time until footsteps caught her attention. Megan was going down the hallway with Trigger, heading to the rarely used back door in the living room.

"Where are you going?" Krista whispered feeling abandoned.

"Taking Trigger for a walk. Besides, I thought you two could use some alone time. You don't need me as a distraction."

"Yes I…" Megan walked out the door. "…do." Krista almost followed her out the door but turned back to the front instead. She would have to face him eventually; there was no avoiding it forever. Her hand lingered on the doorknob for some time, turning it very slowly, hoping that he would be gone by the time she finally opened the door, but when it was open, she found him still standing there, though he looked about ready to turn back.

"Hey, Krista," Guarnere said. She said nothing in response, just as he figured. "Can we talk?"

Krista nodded, opening the door all the way to let him in. When Guarnere was in the house, she noticed the discoloration on his face, and the bit of blood coming from it.

"What happened to you?"

"It's nothing."

"No it is not!" Krista shouted as she ran into the kitchen to get a wet towel. When she came back she began to dab the bruises despite the fact that Guarnere was trying to stop her. "Hold still."

Guarnere finally grabbed her wrists. "It's nothing."

Krista sighed, letting her arms hang loose. Her attempt to avoid the subject had been doomed to fail, but she had to try it. She was desperate.

Guarnere let her go and watched her sit down at the table in the dining room. She avoided his gaze, fingering the grain in the wood. He wanted to move, but chose not to, wary of the consequences; he would wait for her. She could not stall forever.

Guarnere watched her, not believing the image before him. She almost looked worse than when he had first seen her, which gave him a horrible comparison between himself and other who had caused her pain. He winced at the thought and felt the need to go, but that would make things worse; he was stuck.

"You can sit…if you want." Krista whispered, her voice lifeless and withholding. Only after a long debate did Guarnere finally moved and sit across from her.

"Was it Liebgott?" she asked.

"Yeah."

Silence.

Guarnere sighed. "Krista, seeing you like this is killing me. Please tell me what's going on. I've got to fix this. What did I do?"

Krista met his eyes once more. "You did nothing."

"That's not what Liebgott thought."

"He was wrong." Krista replied. "You did nothing; it was me."

"That's what they all say," Guarnere said, not believing her. "What's going on Krista?"

"I-″ she stopped herself, not wanting to say what she had done. Within a moment she stood and walked to the stairs. Guarnere waited in silence, frustrated, confused and concerned, maybe even scared, he could not tell. It was a feeling that he did not like.

Krista returned from upstairs, moving past him quickly to her seat, tossing something on the table at the same time. He had barely picked it up before she left again for the safety of the bedroom above.

The letter had never been opened, he could tell, but there was a small tear in the corner. It had almost been opened. Guarnere turned it to the front, noting who it was from. He sighed. Now everything made sense.

He considered if he should follow her for a while. The last time he was near those stairs, the situation had been completely different, but he decided to go. She could not be left alone.

Guarnere found her in the same place Megan had only this time she had nothing to stare at. The room was dark; she looked asleep.

"So it was Webster." Krista seemed to tense at the sound of the paratrooper's name, or maybe it was his voice. Guarnere tried to inject some humor into the scene in hopes to make her a little better. "I should have known. He was always the first to do everything with you." His attempt failed to have any effect on her. He felt like an idiot for trying.

He leaned against the doorway, pulled out a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth. The urge to light the thing was overwhelming; he even took out his lighter, but soon put it back as well as the cigarette. Now was not the time.

The silence dragged on a little longer until Guarnere broke it. "Would you…would you like me to go?"

"Yes." She had been slow to respond, but at least she had given him something. Guarnere nodded, a little disappointed at her answer, but he understood. He turned to leave. "No." Now Guarnere turned back. She was facing him now. "Please stay."

Those were words he wanted to hear but he hesitated. "You sure it's for the best?"

Her face fell again. "I do not know anymore."

Guarnere began to walk forward slowly, eventually making his way to her bed. He sat across from Krista and watched her for a moment. "Can I ask you a question?" She looked up at him once more and nodded. "If I had been the first guy to kiss you, would you have been with me instead?" Krista said nothing for a long time. She knew her answer but debated if it was the right thing to say. Either way it would hurt, she knew that, but which would hurt less?

She nodded again. "Yes." Guarnere nodded as well. He appeared to be unaffected by her answer but she knew otherwise. It had hurt, a lot.

"Well, that figures. Once again I'm a victim of bad timing." Krista did not know why it happened but for some reason she smiled at what he said, the first genuine one in a while. "Oh, so now you think I'm funny." She began to laugh a little which made him smile and join in. They quieted quickly.

"You know, it's not like he proposed to you or anything, at least I hope he didn't." Krista shook her head. Guarnere looked relieved. "You're not obligated to be with him." Krista looked at him strangely; he could not place the emotions. "You're gonna have to choose."

"Not now."

"No, not now, but when he gets back, when he knows."

"He will hate me."

"If his feelings for you are anything like mine, he won't care." Guarnere stood up then. He had to leave. A hand grabbed his. Krista stood up as well, bringing herself closer to him. She lifted her hand to his cheek and their faces nearly touched. He grabbed her wrist, bringing her hand down.

"We shouldn't." She stared at him for a long time, even got closer but eventually nodded. He was right. She watched him walk out of the room, listened as his footsteps made their way down the stairs and to the front door. His figure could be seen heading away from the house, not stopping, not turning around. If he did, he might never leave.

* * *

Nixon had just returned to the quarters that he and Winters shared. The latter would most likely be gone the entire night. He was swamped with paperwork, as usual. Nixon could not help but smile at the image as he sat down to a glass of Vat 69.

There was a knock at the door. For a moment, Nixon considered not going to get it. It was late. If it was anything important, they could come right through the door if they wanted to. Then he thought about whom it might be and he changed his mind.

Megan stood in front of the doorway, looking as though she regretted every step that she had taken to the house. Trigger looked up at Nixon for a moment and then continued to sniff at something, uninterested in the drama that circled around him.

"You know, before I met you, I had a perfectly good marriage. Well, not exactly perfect. I hardly knew my husband before I married him, and I've stared thinking that we rushed in a little too fast, and the last time I saw him we had a fairly large argument, but it was still a decent marriage, with no thoughts of anything except the next time we'd see each other."

Nixon blinked a couple times in surprise before he said anything. "What are you saying?"

Megan sighed. "I'm saying if you ask me to come inside, I'll accept your offer. If you decide to kiss me, I'll give in immediately and if it goes any further than that-″ She did not get the chance to finish her sentence, Nixon kissed her so quickly. Somehow surprised, she let go of Trigger's leash. The dog proceeded to enter Nixon's quarters, followed swiftly by the other two.

* * *

A few days passed by without much change. Krista was seen around town more often now, though still silent. She worked relentlessly at this point, trying to keep her mind off of the inevitable. The men spoke to her a little, but Liebgott got the most out of her, in German so that no one else could listen in. Krista made up some kind of excuse for her behavior and had him apologize immediately, but Guarnere would not accept it, saying he deserved it for something.

It was nighttime. Chelsea and Lou were absent, which had become a normal sight at this point. Krista was asleep in bed, her mind clear for the first time so of course something had to interrupt it.

"Krista wake up!" Megan shouted, shaking her out of sleep.

"I do not work," she mumbled. "Go wake Lou."

"This has nothing to do with work, Krista. Get up!"

Krista opened her eyes, glared at Megan and prepared for a nasty reply until she noticed the lighting in the room. Her mouth shut as she turned to the window. Moving the curtain, she saw a startling sight. Trucks were lined up all along the street, filling it and others. Men were running around wildly, calling for each other and piling into the vehicles randomly.

"What is going on?' Krista asked as she saw men she knew climb onboard. It was snowing now; a storm appeared to be coming in. Where were they going in weather like this?

"The information is pretty scattered. From what I've heard, the Germans have broken through the front line." Now Krista jumped out of bed, hurriedly putting on some clothes.

"We are being moved?"

"No, no the Germans aren't that close, but they're moving the men to stop them." Krista froze. The men were going into combat. This was not like before; this was worse. She knew that someone would die.

She continued to dress. "I have to go with them."

"That's what I though you'd say." For the first time, Krista actually paid attention to what Megan was wearing. She was dressed heavily, ready to be outside for a long period of time.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I'm not letting you go by yourself."

Krista shook her head. "No, you cannot come." She grabbed a few more things and proceeded down the stairs.

"I'm a big girl, Krista. It won't be any different for me than for you. I think I can handle it."

"Have you been in combat?" Krista asked, turning to her at the bottom of the stairs.

"No."

"Do not start now."

She moved to the closet and grabbed her heavy winter jacket, several gloves and hats. Something told her this would be no quick thing.

"I appreciate the warning and all, but I think I have the right to choose whether or not I go. Besides, you'll need what I have." Megan disappeared into the dining room and returned with a rather large box. "Supplies."

"It is not much."

"But gives them more than what they would have had."

Krista smiled.

If it had looked like chaos from the window, it was even more so when actually apart of it. Men pushed and shoved everywhere, not caring who they bumped into. The two passed truck after truck, watching men load and hearing their complaints of lacking equipment. Hitler had certainly chosen a good time; nine days before Christmas. Perfect.

"Where are we going?" Krista asked, curious as to how they were actually going to leave. Her plan had never gotten that far.

"I know someone. He'll get us out of here."

They approached a truck near the back, untouched at the moment. An African American man sat in the driver's seat smoking a cigarette, watching everything unfold before him, waiting for it to head his way.

Megan knocked on the passenger side door. "Jimmy! Jimmy open up!" She finally got the man's attention and waited as he reached over to open the door.

"Hey Megan! What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to get that favor you owe me." It was now that Jimmy noticed Krista standing behind Megan holding the box of supplies. His eyes widened and he began to shake his head.

"No. No no no no no. I'm not doing it Megan."

"But you said you owe me one."

"Yeah, but I thought it would be to get a dress or a case of wine, not to bring you up to a combat zone! Do I look like an idiot to you?"

"C'mon Jimmy, you know the situation. They're going to need us."

"No, what they need is for you to stay here. A woman killed in combat. What would that do to them?"

"Happens all the time, Jimmy." Megan replied with a serious tone. He still did not look convinced. "Look, if they find out, tell them you thought I was a Lieutenant."

"Oh yeah, just what I need, confirming to my superiors that I'm as dumb as they think." He sat there a moment, thinking. Megan continued to stare at him, knowing he saw her.

Jimmy sighed, "Alright, but when I tell you to duck, please don't take it as a suggestion." Megan climbed aboard and hugged him. "That's a new one. Just make sure no one sees you, okay?" Krista handed Megan the box and then climbed up as well. Jimmy got a good look at her.

"Well, hello there. The name is James Trenton Smith, but you can call me Jimmy." He tipped his helmet. "I shall be your driver this evening."

"Shut up, Jimmy." Megan said, elbowing him.

"Yes, ma'am." Jimmy faced the front again and frowned as soldiers started to approach. "Uh, ladies, this would be the time to duck."

* * *

The girls stayed out of sight until the trucks were well on their way out of town. Megan struck up a conversation with Jimmy while Krista remained silent. She watched the truck in front of them. It was filled with paratroopers, ones she knew. They looked frozen. She felt bad that she was inside the cab of the truck. The heat did not work but they were not exposed.

She began to wonder if they could see her. No, they could not, it was too dark, but what would they say once they did see her? Right now they probably thought she was safe back in Mourmelon but instead she was rushing into combat with them. They were going to worry about her, but she was not about to be left behind to wait for them. She had been dealing with the enemy before they had. She had seen things; she knew the risk.

A couple hours passed before they finally got to their destination. Krista was almost asleep when the sound of squeaking brakes woke her back up.

"Welcome to Belgium ladies." Jimmy said, any laughter that had once been in his voice gone.

Some of the paratroopers were already unloaded, gathering around fires that had been started. Others watched a column of men that had begun marching down the road, the men that had been guarding the line. They looked beaten and dead, beyond hope yet they still marched forward, anything to get to a better place.

"You know, I figure you owe me now."

"Jimmy, I saved your life."

"And I drove you to the end of yours. You've placed guilt on my conscience forever."

"Well, don't worry about that because we're not going to die." Megan shut the door of the truck, picked up the supplies, and watched him drive off. Almost immediately after he was out of sight, someone noticed their presence.

"Krista?" She sighed. It was impossible for her to be invisible. A group of Easy Company men approached her, concern written all over their faces, the look she typically saw. "Krista, what are you doing here?" It was Liebgott who had been talking.

"I am here to help."

"How? By getting yourself killed?" Heffron asked.

"That is how you are!" No one responded. She had a point. Leaving them in their silence, Krista and Megan made their way down the road. It was not long before they were interrupted again.

Krista felt her hand get grabbed. She knew instantly who it was.

She turned to Guarnere. "Yes?"

"Krista, what are you doing here?"

She began to wonder how many more times she would have to answer that question. "Helping."

"You can't help when you're dead."

Krista almost rolled her eyes. "That is what they said."

"Then why didn't you listen to them? Get out of here while you still can."

Krista stood her ground, giving Guarnere the most solid answer she had in a long while. "No."

Guarnere grabbed her shoulders. "Please, you have to leave. Do it for me."

She was beginning to get mad at how he was acting. She had her own opinion and decisions. It was her choice. He had nothing to do with it.

"I am staying for you, for everyone."

"No, you're staying for yourself."

"That too." She was sick of feelings. Someone's heart always broke. They would just have to deal with it this time. She was no longer willing to compromise.

Guarnere sighed, there was no stopping her. "Alright."

With his 'permission,' Krista continued down the road with Megan. They passed a group of officers, including Winters and Nixon. Winters watched them walk by silently, holding in the objections but letting his admiration show. Nixon's jaw dropped as well as everything he held in his hands. Megan locked eyes with him but acted as though nothing was different.

"So where do we go from here?" Megan asked.

Krista read the sign in the distance.

"Bastogne."

* * *

I've got another chapter already in the works! I'll have it out soon!


	18. Old Friends

Hello. Not too many days left. Hopefully this won't be the last chapter but in case it is, goodbye and good luck on your fanfictioning.

Hey, look, 100,000 words! I know it said that for my last chapter but I'm not counting the words I write before the actual story begins so this is the official chapter where I surpass that number. WHOO!!!!

Not my favorite chapter, very random but I think that it would end up like this no matter what. Hope you still like it.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: Old Friends**

**December 1944**

**Bastogne, Belgium**

It was snowing again. For the past four days that was all it did. It never actually stopped, only slowed and picked up again. People said it was the worst they had ever seen. That figured.

Krista stood outside during a time when the snow was only lazily drifting to the ground. She sighed as she watched it.

_Just stop. _She thought. _Just for a couple hours, that's all._

In response the wind blew harder. She grimaced and turned away, wrapping her arms around her coat tighter. It had been a heavy coat but the weather proved otherwise. The thing now felt more like a spring jacket.

She faced the road now. That was the direction they always came from, the wounded and the dead. Some of the faces had looked familiar, a few names she recognized but she knew it was only a matter of time before someone closer died. It was inevitable. Her luck could not last this long nor could theirs.

As if sensing her thoughts, the sound of a jeep interrupted. It sped down the street just missing the few pedestrians that occupied it as well as the craters in the earth. There was only a person in the front, no one in back. Small miracles were appreciated.

Krista walked toward the jeep as it slowed down. Roe was not in it. The man was not from Easy. Another small miracle though she tried not to admit it.

The medic hopped out. "He took a hit to the shoulder. His arm might be broken too."

"Might be? Trust me, it's broken. I've felt it before." It was a voice she knew. Krista looked over at the man and could not help but smile.

"James Thatch."

He looked over at her. "Well, if it isn't Krista, the only girl to ever show me up." She rolled her eyes at his ego. "What are you doing here?"

"I am taking care of your arm." She stepped closer and began to examine his left side. "Was this-″

Thatch nodded. "The same exact one. It just healed too." Krista smiled again. The same arm broken twice, at least it was his left. "I'm glad you find my misery entertaining."

"I do."

The medic began to get impatient. "Look ma'am, there's not many of us out there and-″

Krista sighed. "Alright, follow me." The medic and the driver carried Thatch into the church that had been converted into an aid station. The upper level was relatively quiet with a few soldiers here and there but in what people would call the basement, the quiet soon disappeared in a sea of moans and cries. Wounded men were scattered everywhere lining every available wall, leaving little space to walk. The chaplain was just as busy as the medics, visiting each man to give them comfort or perhaps last rites. Those words were heard all too often, but it felt so normal to Krista. It barely bothered her anymore. She was growing numb again.

"Put him here." She directed the men to an open spot. Someone must have just died; she stopped thinking about that now. "Has he had morphine?"

"No, he refused it." Krista nodded and watched them depart before turning back to Thatch.

"You are a fool."

"But a brave one, right?"

She shook her head at his response. "Maybe." She reached over to a box nearby and pulled out a bottle. "No morphine, you get cognac."

Thatch's eyes widened in disbelief. "Really?" Krista nodded. "Thank you, Belgium." He took the bottle with his good hand and began to drink it.

"Go slow," Krista advised. "You get one."

She walked to another room where Megan counted once again the dwindling amount of supplies. It seemed to have been cut in half since the last time she had counted; she did not even want to know how much morphine there was.

Krista tapped her on the shoulder. "How bad?"

"If you have to ask…" Megan mumbled, putting everything away with one less box. "Another wounded man?"

"Yes. Broken arm."

"He'll need a splint."

"There are trees outside." Neither girl moved. They did not feel like doing anything anymore. They were so used to relief, to shifts, to others taking over when they could no longer perform their duties, now that was all some long lost dream. Relief was those five seconds one was passed out before someone shook them awake and help was when a soldier was capable of keeping pressure on his wound while something was found to use as a tourniquet. There was nothing else, no in-between, just steadily worse.

"You go." Krista said after a while. "Take your time."

Megan nodded. She did not have the strength to argue; she paused before leaving. "We're only using the bandages for the severe cases now."

"What about the others?"

"The pots are soaking used ones."

Krista was left alone then with her thoughts, and with the sounds of pain and suffering in the background. She moved towards one of the pots and looked inside. It was a strange brown color, rather disgusting but it was the only choice they had.

Watching the contents float, her mind began to drift. She began to think of the men again. Some were in half dug foxholes they said, the ground too frozen for them to dig much deeper. Others had managed to get well below ground, their body heat melting the inside and turning their beds into mud. Some had covers but it never prevented the snow from getting in. All this and safety from shells was still not guaranteed. It was a horrible existence. The aid station was like heaven, at least to some. Many preferred to freeze.

She had not seen anyone, save for Roe, so all she could do was assume they were all still alive, though she doubted Roe would tell her if anything had happened.

Despite everything, she never usually thought of the men. Sleep was the dominating topic in her mind, that and how easy life had seemed on the front lines before. Of course, they had not been surrounded then.

There was one advantage in this terrible situation: she did not have to think about how badly she had messed up things before. The status of one's social life was erased on the front lines. It was necessity first, then wants or sleep, the latter always claiming victory. Her mind never even reached the issue, the thought of Guarnere never came up. It was not his life she was worried for when the jeeps came by, not that she wished any harm to come to him but it was as though he did not exist. He was not there; nothing had happened.

"Learning to sleep with your eyes open?" asked a woman carrying more bandages to soak. It was Renee, another nurse in the aid station. She was a nice girl, dedicated to her job.

"Almost" Krista replied with a half smile.

Renee nodded. "I've about mastered it." She paused to look at Krista, whose eyes had still not left the pot. "You can take a break. There are fewer casualties today, if that means anything."

Krista shook her head. "No, I will work. I am used to it."

She returned to the other room and sat next to Thatch. The splint was already in place. She must have been standing there longer than she thought.

"My arm is being held together by strips of cloth and a pine tree branch." Thatch mumbled, more of an observation than a complaint.

"Is that a problem?" Krista asked as she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes.

"It might be. The sap is getting all over. It'll pull the hairs out of my arm." Krista began to laugh, uncontrollably for a while. "You really like seeing me in pain, don't you? C'mon, admit it." Krista tried to keep the smile down, biting on her lips as hard as she could but it did not work. She nodded.

Thatch frowned. "You are a cold-hearted person, you know that?" It only made her smile more.

* * *

For the first time in two years she dreamed of home. Before the dreams had felt so real, that when she woke up, she almost believed she was in her own bed. These dreams were different. They were blurred, the noises echoing, like some long forgotten memory, but that was all her home was now: a memory.

There was laughter somewhere in the background, warm and hearty. It was her father. How she missed him. She tried to picture his face but to no avail. Had she forgotten what he looked like? It was a horrific thought but there she was confronted with the evidence. Her father's face was gone; her old life was being erased. What did she have to live for now? What could she possibly go back to?

More unanswerable questions that would have pounded her dreams were silenced by shouting echoing in the room. Krista's eyes opened slowly, searching the area in confusion.

"Where am I?" she managed to mumble in English.

"You know, the last time a woman woke up next to me, she said the same thing." Krista looked up at Thatch and suddenly everything came back. Her mood did not improve but it was not worse either. "When I think about it, you two look similar." She made sure to hit him hard before getting up.

There were more casualties but that was not what caused all the commotion. Wounded men were normal, almost ignored by those who did not have to deal with them, but this group was different. One of the wounded was German.

He was shouting at the top of his lungs, something about not being killed and everything else a desperate prisoner would say.

Men began to shout too.

"What the hell is that Kraut doing in here?"

"Leave the bastard outside to freeze. It's what they would do!"

"Put him next to me, I'll take care of the problem!"

Many other things were said, things much worse. Krista felt like those words were directed at her. it had not happened yet, but it would and she would not be ready. She could never harden herself against that.

"We need a translator!" Krista looked over at the group and wondered if she should help. The words hindered her decision. She did not want to be the enemy, not again, but their voices were desperate, something needed to be done before the men took it upon themselves.

She began to walk toward the group, not wanting to attract attention by calling out. The soldier's voice had died down, mostly from the fact he was tiring, but he still struggled against the hold of the medics.

"_Stop struggling. They are trying to help you, not hurt you._" When she spoke, a few of the men looked at her strangely; some of the medics turned back to her but were too busy with the man to look long.

The man faced away from her as he spoke. _"I do not care what they are doing. Let me die. It is better than being left alone with these men." _

"_Like your people would do any different. You won't be left in here anyway, for the sake of the men, not you. Now stop your whining and let them fix you."_

The man now turned to her for the first time. His face appeared old and worn, an effect of war for many men. He was starting to grow a beard and had many scars on his face, but there was something she recognized. Suddenly it all made sense. Memories returned and the blurs disappeared.

"Arick." She whispered, too low for most to hear, but loud enough for the man next to her.

"What did you say?"

Arick's eyes widened as he too began to put together the pieces. "Krista?"

A few more heard. Their mouths moved but no words came out. The situation had taken a strange turn. They did not know what to think anymore.

"There is a room in back."

One of the men in the group, an MP, shook his head. "Hold on, lady. We're not moving him until you tell us what's going on."

Krista was angry now as she thought of herself being connected to Arick, to her brother and to others, convicted a Nazi without a chance to appeal, to explain. She was sick of it; she was not going to take it anymore. Everything in her life had been sacrificed for their cause; she had every right to do as she pleased.

"He is hurt." She said through gritted teeth. "Take him back." The man did not argue this time. He nodded and, with three medics, helped take Arick to the back of the church where a separate room had been kept empty in case something like this happened.

Now men began to whisper.

"Fucking Kraut lover."

"She'd save one of their lives before ours."

"Think about it. The accent, the language, this guy. Hell, I bet she is a Kraut." Things started to click now. Men lived in denial because Germans would not help, because surely someone had checked her out, but now it was different. Rumors already began. Every word was a sting, a blow. Her fists clenched together tightly. After everything she had done for them, that she was willing to do for them, they would turn from her so easily. It was disgusting. It was enough to make her leave, to just walk away except somewhere in the forest, cold, tired and starving was a group of men that did not care, that knew her story, that loved her. They were enough for her to survive any storm.

Arick was laid in a corner of the room. Two of the medics left, not willing to deal with the man, and also knowing that three was not necessary. The MP stood outside the door. It was protocol to have someone guard a prisoner but Krista did not see why. Arick was never going to escape, even if he was not injured. Then again, the guard might not be there to prevent him from getting out, but to keep someone from getting in.

Krista entered the room as well, standing in the opposite corner, watching the medic work on a wound in his stomach. It was not severe but painful and she doubted anyone would give up morphine for him, or alcohol.

"_How did you get here?"_ he asked, wincing in pain.

"_Do you honestly think I'm going to tell you?"_

"_I guess not. Looks like you ended up better off."_ Krista said nothing in reply. She felt the urge to strangle him.

Nothing was said for a while. Neither wanted an audience. The medic finished quickly, not wanting to concern himself with the prisoner for very long. He glanced at Krista before leaving, trying to get a fix on what was going on in her mind. There was nothing to be seen.

Krista waited until the medic was long gone before she stepped closer to Arick. He was truly different from before. She was not sure how she was actually able to recognize him. It could not have been the eyes. The cruel images of war had dulled them. Perhaps his smile would have done it, but he had not even smirked; why should he? Something had been there, something she could not see now, but that did not matter anymore.

"_Do you know what they did to me…after they found out I had let you go on the train?"_

She crossed her arms. _"I was a little more concerned with my own welfare."_

"_They sent me to the Russian Front. Stalingrad. Surely you heard of that battle."_ Krista shrugged, not caring either way. _"It was not so bad at first, until the winter came. Half of my platoon froze to death. I nearly lost my foot."_

"_Do you want me to feel sorry for you?"_ Krista asked, hoping that somewhere it would click that she did not care about what happened to him. But if she did not care, why was she in there? He was the first person she had seen in two years that she had known that was not dead. He was apart of her history. Maybe she could remember the rest if she stuck by him long enough.

"_Well, I…I don't know. I'd like you to feel a little bad for me."_

"_Feel a little bad for you…after everything that has happened to me?"_ Krista scoffed. _"What is the matter with you? Two years and you still act like the same little boy that wanted to date me."_

"_I'm not exactly the same."_ Arick replied, trying to sit up and failing. _"Is there something for the pain?"_

"_Nothing that you are worthy of."_

"_Krista, please, it is terrible this pain." _

"_We do not have enough to give to the men, why should I spare any for you? Because you are German?"_

"_Because I am your friend."_

"_You have never been my friend, more so now than ever."_

"_Why? What have I done? I have not changed."_

"_Well I have. I know what you believe in and it disgusts me. I may be German, but I am not you. I will not help you get what you want, I would rather shoot you first."_

Arick began to laugh. _"Shoot me? Krista, you have not changed either. You are still that little girl acting tough so she could impress the boys in town, that is all. You could never shoot me."_

"_Really?"_ Krista stormed out of the room and stopped at the bed right outside the door. There was a man with a bad chest wound. In his possession was a German Luger, something that his friends had tried to take from him so it would not be stolen but he did not trust them. His condition had gotten worse; he would not notice her take it. She knew it was loaded; she had seen him playing around with it before.

She grabbed the Luger from underneath him and headed back inside, too quickly for the MP to grab her, but he saw what she was about to do and followed. He entered in time to see Krista level the Luger on Arick's forehead.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" The MP asked, almost pointing the rifle at Krista, but he kept it to the ground.

She ignored him. _"I could shoot you right now and walk away. This man would do nothing to me and neither would anyone else."_

Arick was still unconcerned. _"Trying to prove yourself to the Americans?"_

"_There is nothing I need to prove._ _I do not care what they think, but so help me if you try anything, I will come back here and pull this trigger, no remorse."_

"Ma'am, I need you to put that down."

Arick looked at her like she was some small child. _"Am I really supposed to believe that?"_

Krista watched him for a moment. There was no fear in his eyes. After being on the front line for so long, she really did not expect him to but there was something else in them that she did not anticipate: laughter. He was not taking her seriously. It was all just a joke to him, nothing more. He was back to the days of playing soldier. No one was injured, no one was dying. It was just little old Krista holding a stick and threatening to tell someone about what he had done. This struck something in her.

She never could take care of herself; she was always the one in trouble, the damsel in distress. No one expected her to be able to do anything. Even when she helped the Resistance, she was just the distraction, the one who always had someone else to rely on. She was tired of being the weak one, the one not taken seriously. She was tired of everything. This could end it here. No one would doubt her again.

She began to pull the trigger back. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the MP slowly raise his rifle. She continued to pull it back and then stopped. Krista lowered the Luger, walked toward the MP and handed it to him. She walked out of the room, passing all of the curious eyes without a single glance.

* * *

Krista was lying on an old, tattered blanket outside, thinking. The snow had stopped falling some time ago, but even if it had not, she would not have moved, even if it began to bury her. The sky was clearing. A beautiful blue was making its way through the clouds. She had almost forgotten the color.

Footsteps approached. She remained still. The person sat next to her. She did not bother to look. There were only a few people to choose from and she did not care which had come.

"That was interesting." Megan. "Mind telling me where that came from?"

Krista shrugged. "Bad day."

"Clearly." Megan paused. "The MP said you had the trigger pulled back almost all the way. Is that true?"

She nodded, "Yes."

"I think I prefer the Krista that used to mope around…You know, the men can't stop talking about it. They like what you did. Several of them asked me questions about you."

"Now they like me."

"You can't blame them, can you? I didn't know you were German, either. I had to let it sink in for a while before I came out here and I know you. They don't."

"I do not blame them. I understand."

"It also helps that the one man you were with was arguing for you."

Now Krista looked at her. "He was?"

Megan nodded. "Fervently too." She was quiet again. "Why didn't you do it?"

Krista took a moment to think about it. She had wanted to shoot Arick, desperately, but she knew that there would be remorse, especially since the reason was for something entirely out of his control. She was going to take out all of her anger on him, and he only deserved a fraction. A thought has also hit her then. Her family _was_ dead. He was the only person left. If she had done it, there would be no way to get anything back that she was missing. There was no doubt in her mind that everything that had to do with her family had been erased. She was alone; she hated to admit it but she needed him.

"I do not know."

There was a low buzzing in the distance. Krista barely paid it any attention, closing her eyes and trying to sleep despite the cold. It soon grew louder. Her eyes opened again and fell on Megan looking up at the sky.

"What is it?"

"Planes." Megan murmured.

"German?" If they were, Krista did not care too much. No building would protect her from bombs. She would be better off staying still.

"No, they're American."

Now Krista looked up at the sky. She had no idea how Megan could tell that they were American, but she did not care. Being dropped from each of the planes were boxes attached to parachutes: supplies.

People ran around the entire town gathering the boxes up and opening them. Some had ammunition, others food or medical supplies. Jeeps began coming in from the front line to get supplies for the men. Most were disappointed by the turn out. The food was not enough. It would only last a couple days. The amount of ammunition was just as bad and there were not enough blankets. Others did not care. It was better than not getting anything at all. Even being surrounded by the enemy could not dampen their spirits.

Roe came as well, happy that he was there without a wounded man. A smile came to his face as he saw the supply boxes scattered throughout. Krista walked with him into the church.

"Every foxhole I've visited at some point has a conversation about you." Roe said as they headed down the stairs.

"Really?"

"Yeah. They're wondering about you. Anything new?"

Krista glanced around the church quickly, smiling. "No."

Roe did the same, noting the looks that she received from some of the men. "Are you sure? Why are they all smiling at you?"

Krista pretended to notice their looks for the first time. She shrugged. "I am a girl?"

Confused, Roe decided not to question it any further. Nothing ever made sense with her, why should it now? He was better off leaving it be.

While Roe was getting supplies, Krista took the opportunity to talk with Thatch. He was in the same spot, having looked like he hardly moved, drinking from his bottle. He looked rather comfortable for a man with a broken arm.

"I know, I know. I only get one." Thatch said as Krista sat down. "But it's some good stuff."

"You can have another." Krista whispered so the other men would not hear. "Thank you."

"Hey, no need to thank me, Krista. If any of the guys knew you half as much as I do, which I'll sadly admit is not enough, they would do the very same." Krista nodded, half there, wondering why it took so little for someone to do such things. It would have been better if Thatch had not stood up for her. The punishment of the men was something she probably deserved for one crime or another.

"Besides, if I hadn't, I think Webster would have shot me himself." Instantly there was guilt. Any good feelings disappeared. She would not be thinking of him all the time but fate was reminding her that the problem was still there, ready to eat her alive once everything was over.

Ignoring her silence, Thatch continued. "I caught Webster talking to himself one day, wondering whether or not he should write to you in German. I didn't think much of it. I assumed you were Dutch, considering the last place he was in was Holland." Krista had to smile at that thought. Everyone always thought she was Dutch. "Anyway, I lean over and ask: how's it going to start? Guten Tag Fräulein? You should have seen the way he jumped. He asked 'how did you know she was…' He never finished the sentence but it was enough for me."

"And it is okay?"

"Of course it is. A girl's a girl, and you're still the best one I've seen yet." Krista rolled her eyes. He never would stop.

Turning, Krista saw Megan heading her way with another paratrooper. His head was wrapped in bloodstained bandage and he looked about ready to collapse.

"Could you take care of this one, Krista?" Nodding, Krista grabbed the soldier and helped him sit down in her spot. She went for a bandage and paused only briefly when she saw Roe and Renee working on a man long gone. When she returned, Krista carefully began to peel the old bandage from his head. There was a rather huge gash on the left side, and it was still bleeding. She quickly put on the new one and applied some pressure for a short time.

"What is your name?" she asked, trying to keep the man focused.

"Danny Greenwood, ma'am." He replied with a thick accent.

"Where are you from?"

"Roberts, Tennessee, ma'am."

Thatch appeared to be interested. "You a sharpshooter?"

Greenwood glared at him. "I'm captain of the basketball team at the local college." He looked at Krista again. "You are the prettiest woman I have seen so far in this war."

"Don't even think about it, Danny boy."

Now Krista glared at him. "Quiet, James. You are jealous."

"Of what?"

"His charm."

Greenwood began to smile. Thatch turned away, mumbling. "Cold-hearted, alright."

Krista let go of the bandage and stood up. "Watch him, James. Please."

Thatch turned back. "Oh, anything for you sweetheart." Krista gave him a look. He smiled and winked. Everything would be fine; he was not about to let a wounded man get worse over something like that.

Krista stepped outside one more, surprisingly calm despite what she had done not that long ago. These were things she could have never imagined herself capable of doing, and now they came like nothing, but for some reason, she did not mind. Her eyes had been opened. She felt stronger than before, less vulnerable and she liked that.

Turning, Krista noticed Roe and Renee sitting together and smiled. They did look like a nice couple but maybe she was assuming too much. It was a nice thought though.

This reminded her of something. Dashing inside quickly, she soon returned with a small box in her hands. She waited patiently for the two to separate, which had to happen when more wounded came instead of something simpler, and then approached Roe.

"A Christmas present for Easy." Krista said as she presented it to Roe, who looked at her with suspicion, unsure if he should take it or not. "It is not bad." She added.

"Just making sure," Roe replied. "What is it?"

"I am not telling. Do not open it."

Roe smiled, "I won't, but I can't guarantee that the guys won't try to."

"They will not."

The two said quick goodbyes before Roe left down the road once again as another jeep came by with more wounded men.

* * *

Christmas time at her house had always been great. Her family would get one of the biggest trees they could find and decorate it with anything and everything, a statement made family famous when a young Krista hung her father's coffee mug on one of the branches.

Despite her father's position in the government, the presents they received were not the grandest or largest in number. He was not out to spoil his children, just provide them with some comforts, but Krista was spoiled in other ways. Her father was a big softy when it came to his daughter.

This was the first Christmas that she actually thought about those things. Pierre had kept her busy on purpose, had never even stopped to celebrate. She was okay with that; she actually preferred it. This was the second time she thought about the family long gone. The situation was bad enough with out having to think about them. It was starting to get to her.

The wounded men were fairly cheerful, at least a little more than usual which was not much in the first place. Hearing General McAuliffe's message had brought a few smiles. Krista did not understand until it was explained by Thatch, who was probably the person who got the biggest kick out of it, saying something about teaching the General all he knew.

It snowed again, most likely the only time snow was truly hated during Christmas. It was nearly up to her knees when it finally tapered off. A couple shovels had been found so for a few hours the girls took turns with a couple medics shoveling out the area. It was hard work, wearing out Krista's gloves quickly. Her hands were frozen before she got five scoops in. The medics took longer turns, saying the nurses hands were too precious to ruin. She could have said the same about theirs.

Someone managed to get a small pine tree and fix it up with things here and there. There were bullet casings on the branches as well as pins from grenades with spent ammo belts for garland. The angel on top was a little doll that a girl had given to the men. It was beautiful in its own simple way and everyone adored it: happiness in a small package.

Randomly someone would start a song but eventually all would join in yet despite how happy the song was, there was always a somber feeling to it as men thought of home, or at least the warm beds far from the front lines that they should have been in. Thatch avoided this problem by joking around and it was with his happy attitude that Krista found solace.

"So I'm hanging in the tree trying to get myself out." Thatch recalled, "When all of a sudden I hear footsteps. I reach for the cricket but then I stop. I think if this guy is a kraut- no offense Krista- and I click, he'll look up and find his perfect target, so I wait. The guy comes along and at this point I'm pretty sure it's a kraut, so I hold my breath and start mouthing as many Hail Marys as I can. Next thing you know, the branch I was snagged on snaps and I drop right on the guy. I get up just as quickly too, expecting a fight. The guy doesn't move. I'd knocked him out cold." Krista's eyes widened. Greenwood did not look as impressed.

"Couldn't come up with anything better than that?"

"Hold on, it gets better. I turn the guy over, looking for a prize to take home and then I stop. I recognize the guy. I had just knocked out the company first sergeant." Now Krista began to laugh and even Greenwood smiled.

"I thought you would've knocked out the CO."

"I would have except the guy dropped on top of a German AA battery." Thatch paused. "He didn't have a chance."

The mood took a turn for the worse so Krista tried to change the subject back to happier things.

"So it is not true?"

"My friend said it happened to a friend of his."

Greenwood leaned in to whisper in Krista's ear. "He means you're right." Krista nodded though still not understanding.

Just then another song started up and the men began to sing along. Krista did not now the song, at least in English, but she hummed to it, enjoying the calm that came from it. Her mind was beginning to drift to memories once again until out of the corner of her eye she spotted Megan waving her over. Excusing herself quietly, Krista made her way over, silently thankful for the freedom.

"What is it?' Krista asked her friend. Megan shook her head and walked up the stairs, motioning Krista to follow. Once they were outside and relatively alone, she spoke.

"Guess what all the top officers are having for their Christmas dinner." Krista shrugged, unable to come up with anything more than a stupid answer. "A fully cooked turkey with everything else good that you can think of."

Krista could not believe it at first but the more she thought about it, the more real it seemed. She looked over at where the officers were quartered; she had been in there once but only briefly, she could not even remember the reason. The place was well decorated and warm with plenty of food and alcohol to spare. What she remembered most was the stream of profanity that leaked out of her mouth as she left.

"Why tell me?" she asked. "What can we do?"

"Well, I've got an idea." Megan paused. "You and I, we're pretty good-looking, right?" Krista said nothing but knew what Megan was getting at. "I figure we could use our charm to coax the officers out of some food to share with the guys."

"For everyone?"

"Well, maybe not everyone but we don't need any good food, right? We're not the wounded ones." Krista nodded. It would be very difficult but it was worth it. It was too bad they could not get anything out to the men on the line. At least they would get her present. She smiled at that thought.

"Okay. We should do it."

They walked down the now empty road. The sun, or what bit they had seen of it, had disappeared long ago. There were not lights on but the moon was out, guiding the girls past the debris blocking their path. Everything was so quiet. It looked like the war had taken a break for the holiday. At least there was that.

They soon stood in front of the house. Laughter could be heard inside. How could they relax at a time like this? Their men were out on the front line suffering from exposure and enemy fire and all they were doing was enjoying comforts the men could only dream about. It made her angry, worse than that. She remembered the day they came back from Veghel, when Webster had been instructed to sweep out Peacock's quarters. Men like that disgusted her. She would not ask them to hand over the food; she would yell at them until they did.

The girls never made it inside though.

There was rumbling in the distance. Some would have confused it with thunder but those who had been on the front lines knew better. It was the sound of planes. They were not visible. It was too dark.

"Are they ours?" Megan asked the sky. In reply, spotlights turned on and anti aircraft guns began to fire. In the distance, the sound of artillery opening up joined the chaotic noises. They were heading to the city, fast.

"We've got to get back to the aid station!" Megan screamed, darting away as fast as she could. Krista tried to follow but she found herself constantly slipping on ice. By the time she got going, the planes were right overhead, the sound of their engines drowning out most other things. This was not going to be like the night bombers passed over before. This time they were the target.

She continued to run, hearing the bombs whistle and drop behind her. All she could do was keep going and pray that none hit her.

A whistle came close. The bomb exploded on Krista's left side, the force knocking her to the ground and covering her with dirt. She looked at the hole created by the thing that nearly took her life. It reminded her of so many things she had seen on the line, that she had experienced. No one was here to help her now. Not Webster, not Guarnere, not anyone. She was on her own now.

There was another whistle. Krista scrambled across the ground quickly to the side of a building and watched as the one across from her burst into flames. She wanted to scream but nothing would come out. She could only watch in horror as the German attack unfolded.

Another explosion. Krista barely had time to react before something fell on top of her and everything went black.

* * *

o.O


	19. Pain and Comfort

Here you go! No more cliffhanger! YAY!!!!

I'll admit the ending is kinda awkward and weird, at least for me it is, but I didn't want to leave it as a cliffhanger. I probably would if I wasn't leaving, just so you could hate me more. :)

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed me over this past year. I'm going to miss you guys. You're going to help me make it through basic. Give yourself a pat on the back. :D

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: Pain and Comfort**

**Bastogne, Belgium**

**December 1944**

Roe felt like Santa Claus as he walked from foxhole to foxhole handing out Krista's Christmas presents. Most of them were cartons of cigarettes, the best she could come up with which seemed an impossible task in itself. He would have to ask her how she did it. Others were special presents, things she happened to find that were more suitable to the man than cigarettes.

His latest stop was the CP where Winters and Nixon were having a silent conversation. Both looked equally frozen though they were no doubt thankful for having a nice place to stay, if it could be called that. The men on the line did.

"What is it, Roe?" Winters asked when he noticed the medic standing outside the shelter. Roe entered with the box.

"Well, sir, I'm here on Krista's behalf. She had some presents she wants me to give you." He grabbed something small with a piece of paper attached and tossed it to Winters. "This is for you, sir."

Winters unfolded the paper and smiled. "You are hard to find a present for. Here is a lighter to burn papers when we have left."

"That's cute." Nixon noted. Roe handed him a flask. He stared at it a while, thinking, it too good too be true, then he took a sip. "Vat 69. She spoils us." He looked up at Winters. "How come no one's married her yet?"

"I don't know Nix. You thinking about taking on the task?" Winters asked with a grin.

Nixon shook his head. "No, it wouldn't work."

"Sir, there's a letter for you too." Roe said.

"And here's the reason."

"Who's it from?" Winters asked.

"A personal contact." Nixon turned to Roe as he began to leave. "What did she get you?"

Roe paused, smiling as well. "Some scissors and extra bandages from 'men with stars on their shoulders.'"

After he left, Nixon spoke. "Maybe I should marry her." He began to read the letter. "Never mind."

Roe had dropped off several more cartons of cigarettes when he approached Lipton.

"Sergeant Lipton." He mumbled, climbing into the foxhole with him. "I've got a present for you from Krista."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Seeing as how you don't smoke, she got you some gum." Roe said, handing over the box. "It's not much but-″

"No excuses needed. Not many men are getting anything this Christmas. It's perfect." He paused, smile still on his face. "Do you need to give something to anyone else?"

"Just two guys."

* * *

He was freezing. No, he was past freezing. Freezing was when you shook uncontrollably to get warm. He was so cold that he was warm. For the past ten minutes he sat watching his breath disappear, thinking of nothing. Thinking only made you long for things and he was sick of that. Everything he wanted was either out of reach or impossible. Krista was a special case.

Guarnere turned to the man sitting next to him. Buck appeared to be doing the exact thing that he was, only his staring seemed more far off. What else could they do but stare?

Buck grabbed something out of his pocket. He held it out so Guarnere could see it. It was a picture of him and a girl.

"Is she yours?" Guarnere asked.

"She was." Buck mumbled quietly. "She's done with me." He dropped the picture in Guarnere's lap and continued to stare.

Guarnere looked at the picture a little longer. He could not help but think about Krista now and of all the little fears he had. The last time he had seen her, she had been upset with him. It was probably nothing but it made him paranoid. What if she was done with him? What would happen when Webster got back? What if she chose Webster? A sick feeling formed in his stomach as he thought about that.

Ripping the picture and tossing it out of the foxhole, Guarnere leaned back. He could have used a drink. Or a cigarette. Both would have been nice but that was not going to happen any time soon.

Footsteps in the snow caught his attention. He watched as a helmet with a red cross slowly approached them, the face of Roe soon recognizable. He held a small box. Guarnere thought he was going around trying to collect extra medical supplies again.

"Sorry Roe, but I still don't have anything." Guarnere said to the medic. "You cleaned me out a couple days ago."

"I'm not here for that." Roe replied as he kneeled down next to the foxhole. "Krista decided to give everybody some Christmas presents." He tossed the two some cartons. Buck nodded politely and continued staring, not really caring at the moment.

Guarnere looked at the box. "Is this what everyone got?"

Roe shook his head. "No, the guys who don't smoke didn't get any. A couple guys got a few extra things like Toye. She managed to get him some more socks."

Guarnere paid little attention as Roe left. He was thinking again. The cigarettes were nice but they made him think of Krista. It was all she gave him. He did not want to seem selfish but he would have thought that something else would have come with it, like a message or…something.

He sighed. Maybe she was done with him.

* * *

There were noises in the distance, muffled, altered, unrecognizable. Her breath filled the void. It was fast paced as though she had been running, but she could not remember doing that. She tried to remember the last thing that she had done but the pain in her head was too much for her to concentrate. She moved a little but it hurt so she stopped. For a while she stayed put, too afraid to do anything.

Her hearing came back with a bang. Krista's eyes flew open, scanning the area quickly, searching for the source of the noises. She could not see much. Fallen wood and brick surrounded her, blocking most views. How she was conscious, or even alive, she did not know. At this point it did not matter. All she wanted to do was get out.

Reaching forward with her left hand, she tried to grab something solid in order to pull herself forward and perhaps free her right arm which she could not move from underneath her body. It was so painful she wanted to cry but she continued to pull herself until her arm was free enough. Now began the difficult task of pushing herself up. It was slow. Her muscles had all but disappeared and the debris would not budge. Collapsing, she thought to just stay there until help arrived. There seemed no point in getting up now. What help could she be to anyone?

Someone screamed. It scared Krista, shook her to the very core. It sounded like they had died. Others had to be dying too. She could not stay here. As long as she was awake, as long as she was alive, she could not leave them alone. There had to be something she could do.

Krista pushed up once more, feeling the same lack of muscles and the stone like wood that rested upon her back. She wanted to fall, the burning sensation deep inside was intolerable but she continued to push. Eventually something snapped, the debris fell away and her back was free. Now she fell down again, rolling to the side and landing face up, drifting in and out of consciousness, hardly aware of her surroundings once again.

Something warm traveled down her face. Her half numb arm touched her cheek, feeling the warm liquid that could only be blood. It covered most of the right side of her face and was in her hair, matting it. She began to check the rest of her body. Cuts and soon-to-be bruises but nothing terrible. She was lucky indeed.

Krista rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up once again. It took her a while to get up but it was not slow enough. The world began to spin. She would have fallen over again if it were not for the wall of the building. Trying to find something to hang onto, Krista felt her stomach heave. She got sick and then felt herself slide down, looking up at the sky as she did so. The stars were hard to see, the brightness of the fires around the city prevented it.

The city. What city was she in? Nothing looked familiar. Maybe at some point they had but the buildings were either on fire, blown apart or both. She could not recognize anything.

There was a sign on a building not too far away. Her vision was blurred though and it was hard to make out. She squinted hard. What did it say? B…A…S…

"Bastogne." She whispered. Memory returned, hitting her hard, shocking Krista to her feet. She was in Bastogne as a nurse helping men, they were surrounded and had now just been bombed. She had been running back when… Krista looked at the building she had been leaning against. Most of the roof was gone as well as the upper part of the wall. Much of it had landed where she once was. How had she survived?

A burning jeep passed her, coming from the aid station. Krista's heart stopped. She began to run, ignoring the complaints of her body and the sounds of explosions still going off around her. She thought of nothing except prayers for the men and the building that they held them in. It could not have been hit. There was a red cross on it. Only wounded men were held inside, they could do nothing to harm anyone but neither could most of the other people in the city and yet they found themselves victims as well. Still, she refused to think that anything had happened to the church. No one hit it. It was fine. It was fine. It was fine.

Krista approached the church and immediately dropped to the ground upon seeing it. There were flames on the roof, the entryway was inaccessible and yet men still managed to crawl from the rubble. They had hit it, almost destroyed it. How would the men down below get out? Could they even be alive still?

She stood up once more and began to run to it again. Thatch and Greenwood were inside, so was Renee, so was Megan. They could not be dead, she would not allow that but fate did not care about what she did or did not approve of, it did what it wanted to and that was what she was most afraid of because the thing it wanted most was to destroy her.

Debris blocked most of the way and what remained of the roof looked about ready to collapse but that did not stop Krista from trying to get inside though men who saw her were yelling for her to turn around. She ignored them. They did not matter.

"Megan! James!" she screamed, voice echoing down the remnants of the hallways. "Danny!" Krista looked down. There was a body buried under the wood and brick, just like she was but this person was dead. It was a woman. She was too afraid to get closer but she did not have to. The headscarf gave it away.

Krista cupped her hands over her mouth but the scream pushed past her fingers. The tears came freely, washing away the blood that met them. She began to back up, unable to move past the body of her friend to look for the others. Backing up fast, she tripped over something and fell to the ground. She continued to crawl back, trying to get as far away as possible. Someone grabbed her by the shoulders and picked her up. For a moment, she considered that it was the enemy, that they had finally broken through. Everyone she knew was dead and she was next. She began to fight them, not wanting to be taken.

"Krista! Krista stop, it's me!" yelled a familiar voice. Krista looked up into the eyes of Danny Greenwood and nearly collapsed into his arms.

"Danny!" she cried, embracing him tightly before pulling back. "Are you hurt?" Krista began to check him before he grabbed her arms and pulled them down.

"I'm fine but you aren't."

"No, I am fine. How are you out here?"

Greenwood shook his head. "I don't know. Someone ran in, told us to get out. We ran as fast as we could. I don't really remember how we got here."

"We?"

"James and…" Greenwood's voice trailed off and he paled a bit. He looked at Krista, eyes holding as much confusion as hers. "I don't know where he is."

Krista let Greenwood go. "We have to find him!" She looked around, began to run in every direction. "James! James!" Her voice became more desperate every time her call went unanswered. Could she have lost someone else?

She would have kept calling out all night until Greenwood shouted. "Over here!"

Krista ran to where Greenwood now kneeled. Thatch had been found but unlike Greenwood he had not been so lucky. He was lying in a small pool of his blood, looking pale and lifeless, though still conscious. There was a gash in his left side and his arm was gone just above the elbow.

"James!" Krista yelled as she fell to his other side, crying once more.

"Hey Krista." His voice whispered, too weak to go any louder. It was shaky. His entire body was like that. Krista threw off her coat and put it over him, trying to keep him warm. She was too numb to feel the cold. She looked at his arm, holding back all the sick feelings inside. They needed to stop the bleeding.

"Danny, do you have a belt?" Krista asked, not taking her eyes off Thatch.

"Yeah, I do."

"Come here." Greenwood obeyed. "Put it on his arm…tight."

"Why are you… doing that?" Thatch asked, lifting his arm as far as he could. "Would you look at that…my arm is missing. Guess I don't have to… worry about breaking it anymore." He wore a weak smile but got no reply. Krista was taking a good look at his side. It was not too bad, the bleeding has slowed but she was worried about shrapnel. If they moved him, they might make it worse.

"Hey, don't… worry about that." Krista looked up at Thatch like he was crazy. "I'm serious… don't worry about it… I'm dying… anyway." Now Greenwood gave him the same look but said nothing.

"You are not dying." Krista said, continuing to look at his wound.

"Now Krista… I don't like being lied to… I get enough of that from the army." He began to cough hard now. Krista stood and went to his right side.

She looked at Greenwood. "Help me lift him." Still holding the tourniquet on his arm, Greenwood pushed Thatch up a little, only enough so Krista could get behind him to keep him elevated.

Thatch nodded. "That's better." His voice was weaker. Krista bit back the emotions as she watched him die. She could not lose him but what could she do?

"Hey Krista." Thatch whispered in her ear as his head rested on her shoulder. "Could you… do something for me?"

"She ain't kissing you if that's what you're thinking," answered Greenwood. "That's a dying wish and you aren't dying."

Krista nodded. "He is right."

"Alright…if I live…can I kiss you?"

She almost smiled. "Yes, you can kiss me then."

"Sounds good." He began to close his eyes.

Greenwood became alarmed. "Hey, no going to sleep Thatch."

"I'm not sleeping…I'm resting my eyes."

Another jeep came through. Krista recognized one of the passengers. It was Roe.

"Eugene!" She shouted with as much strength as she could. Her voice was dying but he heard her. Roe came over at a dead sprint, kneeling down in front of Thatch before she knew it. He began to work on the man's side right away, pulling out bandages and drugs from his kit. He was about to stick him with morphine when Thatch stopped him.

"Don't bother…I'm numb."

Roe nodded, pulling out some plasma. He handed the bottle to Krista. "Hold this." It was the first time he really looked at her. He took a second glance when he saw the red on her face. "You're hurt, Krista."

"It is fine."

He continued to work. "What about Megan?"

"I do not know."

"And Renee?" Silence. Roe looked up. "What about-″ Her gaze told him everything. She watched the pain and sadness creep into his eyes. He looked down, pausing for a moment and then continued. It was a proud moment for her, seeing her friend continue despite his pain. She only wished she could help him more.

Krista looked at the church and thought of its irony. A place of sanctuary turned into a tomb, locking in the people so they could not escape. Megan was in there, she knew it. Whether she was alive or not was the question.

* * *

Megan felt like she was about to cough up her lungs. The entire basement was covered in a blanket of dust, her hair nearly white. She looked around at the few parts she could see through the cloud. There were some breaks in the ceiling but it was mostly in tact but the noises it made hinted that it would not be like that for long.

"Is everyone okay?" she asked. There were a few affirmatives and some moans but mostly silence. Some were gone but some had also died. She expected that.

Before helping the men, Megan went to check on the integrity of the stairs. At first, it looked as though they would actually be able to get out of the church but when she neared the top, those hopes vanished. It was almost completely blocked by debris. When she pushed against it, more threatened to fall on top. She tried to shout for help but there was no one around to hear her.

For one moment, hopelessness overcame her. She sank down against the wall and allowed herself to cry for the first time in a while. It was all too much, everything she was in, most of it being her fault. She did not have to be here; she could have stayed in Mourmelon and done normal things with easy hours and good, warm food. Then again, she never did take the easy way. She had no idea where her husband was anymore, not that she had the right to call him that anymore. The fact of what she had done did not bother her as much as it should have. A few months into a marriage and it was already ruined and she did not care. It was Nixon that she often worried about now.

Megan sighed. This was getting ridiculous. The bombs should have killed her, then she would not have to think about it anymore.

Standing up, she went to check on the wounded men trapped with her. All they could do now was wait.

* * *

Guarnere was walking back to the company CP to give a report on what little action they saw. They had gotten lucky. The Germans had attacked somewhere else. Lieutenant Welsh, though, did not share the same sentiment. He had taken a bad hit and was probably in Bastogne at that very moment drinking down some kind of alcohol. Sometimes it made Guarnere want to get hit. At least he would see Krista then.

When he reached the CP, Captain Winters was listening to a rather excited Roe talk about what had happened to Bastogne. From what Guarnere could make out, the city had been bombed and the aid station had been hit. He could have fallen over there and then if he had not been curious enough to listen to more.

"They need help, sir. People are trapped everywhere in the city and they don't have enough manpower to get them out."

"We don't have enough people here to man the line." Winters replied. "I know people are hurt but if the Germans break through the line, there won't be much of a point helping them."

"It was an order, sir." Roe watched the normally calm Winters try to keep himself composed. "They only need a couple."

"A couple is all we have." Winters mumbled, turning away from Roe so he could think.

Guarnere spoke up. "I'll go, sir."

Winters looked up at the sergeant, almost saying no but he knew that it was pointless. The man would probably walk there if he could. He nodded. "Alright, but that means we'd still need one more. Roe, you are not going back there. We need you here."

It was now that Nixon, who had been sitting out of sight, listening with an unreadable look on his face, stood. "I'll go with Guarnere."

Winters had no problem with his response. "No, Nix. I need you here."

"C'mon Dick, I'm an intelligence officer in an area surrounded by the enemy. I've got to be the most useless guy here." Looking at his friend, Winters saw that Nixon was bent on going, whether he condoned it or not.

Winters caved. "Okay, fine but at least wait until morning."

* * *

It had been a long night. Thatch had nearly died but with Roe's help, they managed to get him stable. Without the proper medical attention, though, he would not last very long.

They had moved the wounded men to a new building that had barely been touched by the bombing. The moans and screaming resumed but Krista hardly paid any attention to them. She sat next to Thatch as he slept, half asleep herself, stroking his hair. She had stopped praying for him a long time ago, mostly because she did not have the strength to even do that. Greenwood was asleep on the other side of her. The medics had refused to let him help. She smiled at the sleeping soldier, glad that he was there.

Something came over Krista and she felt her stomach heave again. Moving slowly so as to not disturb the men, she made her way out of the building to an empty alleyway where she got sick once more. This was not good and she knew it, but they had so many others that needed to be taken care of. She did not want people to worry about her when someone else needed more attention.

Deciding not to head back inside, Krista took a seat on a small bench she found. She watched men pulling others out of the church, the debris finally cleared for the moment. She refused to get any closer to it; she never wanted to go in that church again.

Leaning her head against the wall of the building, she continued to watch them until her eyelids grew heavy. Sleeping was probably not best but she did not care. Sleep was hard to come by. She needed it.

For some reason, she opened her eyes again. She watched a blonde haired woman emerge from the sea of men around the church. Krista smiled. It was Megan. She was okay. A smile slowly crossed her face. Things were turning out rather well, at least in her view. Megan was hugging someone, a dark haired man. It only occurred to her now that it was Nixon. She watched their embraced and smiled more, not caring about the marital status of either one of them. They seemed perfect for each other.

There was someone else she recognized, but they were hard to see. Krista stood, a bad idea for the dizziness returned and she felt sick again. Her heart was pounding in her head and it was hard to concentrate. She nearly fell over but managed to straighten herself up in order to get a better look at the person.

They had a beard which was something she had never seen any of the men with but considering the conditions, they probably would grow one. She squinted, her eyesight somehow worse. Now she saw who it was just as they looked in her direction and smiled. The man that had not existed had come to rescue her. She crossed her arms around her coat and watched him approach. Her head began to spin and pound more so she put her hand on her forehead trying to stop it. That was when she felt it. Something warm was on her hand. Looking down, all she could see was red on it. Krista opened her coat, hoping that it was just blood from Thatch. Her side was soaked in it. She had never noticed.

Her eyes met him again but she could barely make him out. Her vision was going. She could tell that he had stopped, concerned with what she was doing and now began again at a faster pace. She felt so dizzy, so sick.

Guarnere watched her fall. Her entire body went limp and collapsed onto the ground. He ran faster, praying that his worse fear would not come true, praying that he would not see her again after this only to watch her die. She could not die, not after everything she had been through with them, with everyone. Not now, not during Christmas, not anytime. They were so near the end now.

"Krista!" He shouted, hitting the ground and picking her up in his arms. The last time he had done that, things had been so different. He wished he could stop thinking about it now. "Krista, Krista look at me! Open your eyes, c'mon!" She was so pale, she already looked dead. The side of her face was covered with dry blood that she had tried to rub off. His hand touched her side and came back red. He felt his heart stop, his breath cease. He was frozen as he stared at his hand covered in her blood.

Somehow her eyes opened, but only slightly. She looked at him and a faint smile appeared. Guarnere's ability to move returned.

"Hey Krista. What are you trying to do to me, huh? Give me a heart attack?" Her eyes began to close again. "Hey, don't do that. Open your eyes, Krista!" She obeyed. "That's it. You've gotta hang in there, okay?" He looked over his shoulder. No one had noticed the scene. "Medic!" He continued to shout until someone came, picking her up and running toward the aid station at their instruction. She weighed nothing in his arms. He watched as her eyes shut once more. No amount of encouragement could get them to open again.

More medics took her away from him, telling him not to follow, leaving Guarnere by himself. He could not stay in the aid station. Every moment only made it worse. Returning outside, Guarnere leaned against the wall and tried to light a cigarette but his hand was shaking so much that he gave up. He looked at the cigarette. It was from Krista, a present he had gotten from her only hours before…

He chucked it into the ground, kicking at mounds of snow and feeling the need to punch something. Guarnere never thought he would break. After everything he had gone through, he thought he would be okay, but there was one thing he had not considered and it was lying in the building behind him, unconscious, barely alive. He could not stay there.

Bursting back into the aid station, Guarnere went to where they worked on Krista.

"I'm staying and not one of you sons of bitches can make me leave."

* * *

She felt warm and comfortable for the first time in days. Thinking about it, Krista thought she was dead for a moment but when her hearing returned, she knew it was not true. For the second time, she slowly opened her eyes to a scene she did not know. It was a dimly lit room, empty save for herself and a sleeping body next to her. Below she could hear the noises of the aid station, the ones that had convinced her that she was still alive.

Trying to sit up, Krista only confirmed that she was alive. The pain that went through her body was almost unbearable. Her head began to pound as well, but not as bad as it used to. Everything was stiff and sore. She began to wonder how long she had been lying there.

Her movement disturbed the man sleeping next to her. Burying herself in the warm covers a bit more, Krista watched the person roll over and face her. It was Guarnere, beard and all. The look on his face was indescribable, as though he were looking at someone he had not seen in many years.

"Krista…hey, how are you?"

There were so many responses that she could have said. She went with a simple one. "I am warm."

Guarnere smiled. "Well, you should be. You know how many blankets are on you?"

Krista shrugged and smiled. His began to fade as she did so. "What?"

She watched as he struggled with his thoughts. "I never thought I'd see you smile again." he paused. "You were dying in my arms, Krista. You got lucky. We found a surgeon and he saved you."

"A surgeon? We do not have one." Her eyes widened as she realized how they could have gotten one. "Do you mean?"

Guarnere's smile came back. "Patton broke through not long after…well, you know. It's the only reason why Captain Winters has let me stay these past two days."

"Two days!"

"Why are you so surprised? You were pretty banged up, you know." Now Krista noticed the tight bandage around her head and waist.

"Yes, I was."

Guarnere was quiet for a moment. He got closer to her, began playing with her hair, stroking her face, making sure that she was there. "I'd thought I'd lost you." She observed what he did for a moment, seeing how shaken up he was, how certain he had been that she would die. He looked different, broken, and it scared her. She never wanted to see him look like that again.

"You did not." She got closer and kissed him, not caring about anything. She deserved this, they both did. They only stopped to get a breath. She smiled and could not help but say, "You look funny with a beard."

"Always gotta insult me, don't you?"

Krista nodded. "It is what I do." They began to kiss again, slowly, deeply, passionately, but were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Five bucks says it's Megan." Guarnere mumbled, pulling away and leaning against the wall. He nodded as Megan walked through the doorway to his right and began to stare at the wall across from him.

Megan looked like she was about to cry. "Oh my God, Krista, you're awake. How are you?"

She looked at Guarnere then back to Megan. "I am fine now."

* * *

In case you hadn't noticed, I love to torture my characters. As I like to say: the greatest thing about writing is the horrific abuse you get to inflict upon you characters.

I have a new idea for a BoB fanfic for when I get back. Tell me what you think about this:

**Things the Heart Survives: **Tragedy brought her to England where she met a man who could save her from a downward spiral but with life and war constantly playing games, can they both make it through?

Tell me if you want a preview! Cheers!


	20. Her Breaking Point

Holy crap, another chapter! Wow, guys, sorry I've been gone so long. Graduated BCT, now almost through with AIT. 27 Deltas! (Paralegal Specialists) Hooah! Hope this chapter isn't too bad. I wrote a little of it in BCT but most just recently. I have lost touch with my story a little, obvious so forgive me if I accidently repeat something.

You guys have written a lot since I left. I have some catching up to do. Christmas Exodus soon! Hooah! Then to the 34th Infantry Division, whoo! National Guard, Army Pride!

Oh, and just to let everyone know what it's like to wear what military people so nicely call Birth Control Glasses, you know it's bad when your mother says they're uglier than the ones she had to wear. Yeah…

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty: Her Breaking Point**

**Bastogne, Belgium**

**December 1944**

Guarnere could not stay long. They needed him back on the line. She watched him leave, mumbling complaints like a little child, loud enough for him to hear, if only to reassure him that she was alright. It became rather quiet after he left, save for the sounds of the aid station below. At first it was alright, she managed to get some much needed sleep but soon enough it became unbearable. She would toss and turn trying to sleep again but her body knew she had enough. Often times she would avoid morphine or anything to kill the pain, even though relief had come. She could not be certain of anything anymore.

Word had come to her that Arick had died. The part of the building he was in collapsed when the bombs were dropped upon the city. Deep inside, some part of her mourned but she had been hurt too long to care much anymore. When he died, so did the rest of her German heritage. She was free to be who she wanted now.

A few days passed by. The New Year was coming up. A couple late Christmas presents had been sent her way from the men. Simple things like extra food or letters, even a couple a rather well done drawings. Every now and then some of the men got the opportunity to drop in and check on her, acting rather concerned at first but leaving relieved. She was strong now, pushing through tough times with a greater mindset. Nothing seemed to affect her anymore. At this point, she should have expected as much. She had been through everything one can imagine and then some.

Thatch had finally been evacuated from the area along with a few others. He usually happy mood was gone now. It had hit him that his arm was truly gone, no joke, no reform, just permanency. He barely spoke a word to Krista when she was able to say goodbye to him, he simply stared into the distance. She wondered if he would ever recover from it.

Greenwood was doing better. His wound was nearly healed so they let him return to the line. He would come back to visit Krista often, trying to joke around like Thatch to make up for his absence. He failed miserably and only made Krista think of the missing soldier more but she did not tell him. Greenwood thought he was helping. It was probably better to keep him thinking that.

When no one came to visit and the screams had quieted down, boredom reigned. Megan refused to let Krista do anything despite the latter's insistence that she was alright. Krista knew it was not true, that her side had a long way to go but she did not want to sit around and do nothing to help the war effort. She had done that enough already, which was why she refused to let them evacuate her. There would be no sitting by in the safe zone while everyone else fought. She had come to help and that was what she was going to do.

One day she had managed to sneak down the stairs and even got the opportunity to care for a few patients before Megan caught her and forced her to go back up. Walking was a slow process for Krista. With her side so badly injured, it was difficult to pick up her leg but she managed to limp alright. It made some of the men look at her with sympathy, even the ones that had no legs to limp on. She simply made funny faces at them and continued, not bothering to discuss how wrong she thought they were. Most days were spent counting grain in the wood or practicing her terrible English with men that would make their way up the stairs, but that did not happen very often. She was beginning to go insane in a new way.

Today was no different than any of the others. She had hardly gotten any sleep, mostly because that was all she did. Staring at the same spot she usually had, Krista tried to think of something to do with her limited ability. Coming up with nothing, the typical answer, Krista lazily slammed her arm down on the jacket next to her. There was a crunching noise, the kind that paper would make. Curiosity caused her to look over. It suddenly occurred to her that the jacket on the floor was hers, the one she had been wearing before she had been hurt. Someone must have put it there while she was asleep. It also dawned on her that the only thing that could possibly have made that noise was the letter that she had put in there, the one from Webster that she had refused to read.

Carefully, as though something might bite her hand, she reached inside the pocket and withdrew the crumpled letter. The outside of it was stained in blood, most likely hers but it could be anyone's. It made her stomach drop. Regrets filled her once again. How could she possibly deal with this? So much for not being affected. She never truly could be numb.

This new feeling began to overwhelm her, as so many had done before. The room felt too small and lonely, as it had many times. She needed to go somewhere else. Megan was not going to stop her this time, no matter how hard she tried.

Despite her desperation to get out of the room, Krista snuck out slowly, pulling on her jacket as quietly as possible. Though she was in pain, there were others to consider. She would have liked to think that was the only reason she did it but this method also reduced her chances of running into Megan. While the woman would not be able to stop her, she did not want to have to deal with her.

It was quiet downstairs, a strange occurrence, one that would only just happen when she was trying to sneak out. Every move she made seem to echo. Many times wounded soldiers almost woke up. Of course they would not tell on her but the fact that she took them away from sleep would leave a terrible feeling. She had had enough of those to last her more than one lifetime.

The door had been left propped open, good news for her. She slipped outside fast, moving through the fresh coating of snow as quickly as her legs could carry her, which did not feel fast enough. A limping person trying to sneak away from the aid station seemed like an impossible thing. There was no way to cover up her injury. She took sitting behind the building across the street as good enough. The air was cold but easy to breathe. Calming her thoughts, she watched as her breath curled around in the crisp air, slowly disappearing into nothing. She tried not to think about how easily it related to her life.

Turning her head, she watched as the local people went about life in the war zone. Most of their homes were damaged if not half destroyed. How they adjusted to the situation was quite amazing. Many took others in and cared for them. Rebuilding was already going on even though their work could easily be destroyed within the next minute. It was encouraging all of it. If only this alone was enough to lift her spirits.

She began to think about the letter again, now that she had the freedom to do so. Should she read it? This had been a question occupying her mind for some time. Should she choose to read something from a man that had no idea what was going on? It could only make her feel worse but not reading it felt just as bad. If only someone had taken her jacket away and never given it back, burned it preferably.

Krista buried her face in her hands. The situation never got better, only delayed then worse. There was no longer the question of when life would be simple again because it was never going to be.

She thought it had only been a short time that she sat out there, thinking of nothing for a while but when she stood, the sun was well on its way down. Krista looked at the sky strangely. Had not the day just begun? Sighing, she began to head back. No doubt Megan was starting a search party for her. There was also no doubt that all of Easy knew about it too. Guarnere was probably heading the effort.

Slowly making her way back, Krista knew she was caught but when no one ran out to her the instant she approached the building, she became curious. When she entered the building, the only beings to great her were the wounded. Despite any circumstance, Megan would have dropped everything if she heard that Krista was back. The woman was that dedicated, or that insane. Krista had yet to determine which.

Krista walked around for a while, seeing that the coast was clear. She visited some of the wounded, swapping interesting war stories, giving them something to occupy their minds besides the terrible things that had happened to them. After a while, she became concerned. Not once had she seen Megan. Her friend could not honestly be out looking for her. She knew that she would turn up eventually.

Krista turned to the young boy from Arkansas that she was speaking to. "Do you know Megan?"

His blue eyes began to smile. "Yes, ma'am, I do. She does a lot for us down here. Haven't seen much of her today though. From what I heard, she had been given something and rushed out of here as fast as she could. Don't know where she went after that. Wish I could be of more help."

She tried to hide her overwhelming concern and fright. "No, that was enough. Thank you." Bowing out from the conversation as gracefully as she could, Krista began to search the building for any sign of her friend but she could have been anywhere. After searching for what felt like hours to her, though it could only have been a few minutes, Krista felt like giving up. Megan was nowhere to be found and now her concern was becoming unbearable. In that moment it suddenly occurred to her that there was one place that she had still not searched.

In the dark of the room that she had been staying in for the past few days, Krista found Megan huddled up in a small corner, holding a piece of paper and shaking like a leaf. Any terrible feelings that she had been holding for herself now vanished. She began to regret ever feeling sorry for herself. It was selfish of her; she was not the only one suffering.

Krista took a tentative step forward. "Megan?" The form in front of her looked up for a brief moment, then resumed its staring at the floor. She was almost afraid to move any closer, not sure of how Megan would react, if she even did at all. This posture that her friend took on reminded her so much of herself. She had once been like that, maybe just hours before. To see someone else like this scared her. Now she knew why the men were always so concerned.

She boldly took a few more steps, watching Megan intently for any reaction. When there was none, she continued forward, still slowly but without stopping until she was nearly on top of her. Just as slowly she kneeled down and watched Megan for a moment or two. Her friend's hand moved suddenly, holding out the piece of paper to her. Krista took her time grabbing it, afraid of what would happen. Unfolding the paper with the lightest touch, Krista began to read what she could. Many words were beyond her but she did not need to know all of them to understand what the paper said.

Lieutenant Novak was not coming home.

Krista began to stare at the floor as well, grief washing over her. She hardly knew the man but he was kind, and was married to Megan. The thought made her think of something else but she decided to ignore it. Now was hardly the time.

"You know what the worst part is?" Megan whispered, her voice cracking most of the time. Krista said nothing, waiting for her to finish. "When he was being attacked, when he was…dying, all I could think about was how Lewis was doing, if he was okay. I never even thought of him." More silence followed. How could she possibly respond to something like that? It took everything within her power not to think negative, critical thoughts of her friend, even though when she thought about it, she was in the same position, except hers had not progressed to such a horrific level as Megan's.

How long she sat there, Krista did not know, but it did not matter. She would stay until her friend asked her to go, but only slowly and not very far. She could not be left alone. Megan had been with her this entire time helping her cope with all the chaos in her life, she could not leave her now that her life was falling apart.

"You have to choose, Krista." Megan's whisper was stronger now, no longer cracking with every word she uttered. "Choose one or leave them both. Don't do it to yourself, don't do it to them. Don't be like me." With that the last of her strength gave out. Tears that had no doubt come before began to flow again. Uncaring of her reaction now, Krista moved forward quickly and grabbed her friend, holding her tightly, letting her know that she would never be alone.

. . .

More days passed by, as did the New Year, which came and went without a thought. There was nothing to celebrate about it. No one could tell the difference between the years. Both were cold and in the middle of the war, that was all they needed to know. Casualties continued to come in while others went back to the line. The enemy was not going to change their ways because of the moving of a number and neither should they.

Krista had made her way downstairs again and was speaking with several of the soldiers when another wounded one was brought in. She hardly paid attention to the new arrivals anymore for there were so many; she was still not allowed to help in any way. This time though, Megan, who had opted to remain to keep her mind focused, which did not seem to be working so well, brought the new arrival to Krista's attention.

Walking over, not really thinking about the situation at the moment, Krista glanced at the now pronounced dead soldier. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized him as Hoobler.

"Oh God." She whispered, kneeling down next to her friend. Her hands reached out to touch him but stopped short, afraid of what they would feel, or what they would not. There was no longer a pulse in his body, no longer blood moving through his veins. The rise and fall of his chest had ceased, as had the quirky sayings of his. Never again would she hear his voice or see him with the other men. Somehow no emotions came, the shock was too much.

Another man kneeled across from him. It was Roe, which she should have expected. Perhaps he had been the one to pronounce him dead. She could not imagine that feeling especially with someone so close. He must have done it so many times already. Yes, there had been the experience with her brother but certain things had tainted it, had ruined what mourning and relationships she should have had with him. Hoobler had deserved no harsh treatment, nothing that her brother received. His loss must have hit them all equally hard.

"How?" It was all she could ask; it was all he needed.

Roe sighed. "He finally found his luger. The thing was, it didn't want him." He motioned to Hoobler's bandaged leg. It took a few moments but she finally understood. Somehow Hoobler had shot himself. It was such a terrible way to lose someone, to have gone through everything that the Germans had thrown at him since D-Day and then die because of a weapon that accidently went off, a weapon that he happened to want for so long. Krista shook her head at her friend as he lied there. At least he was at peace now.

The two sat in silence for a while, each in their own way appreciating the final moment with their friend. Someone else came upon them, and in a low, attempted non-insulting voice, he said, "We have to move him. There's no room here. Grave detail can pick him up." The look they gave the man could have dropped him dead right then and there. He appeared to shrink right before them, slowly backing away to where he originally came from. The two continued their moment of silence until Roe sighed.

"He's right."

Another sigh, "I know."

With that, they departed their friend for the last time, allowing the other soldier to move him. They could never gain the courage to put Hoobler in the cold, ignored and alone, even if he was dead. There were just some things that people cannot do no matter what the circumstances.

They found themselves sitting on a bench outside, hardly feeling the cold air as it moved past them. Perhaps they had become used to it already but they had other reasons. There were no words spoken, none needed to be. The feelings were exactly the same, as were the thoughts, as were the questions of what to do next, of who was going to be next and how they would deal with it then.

Hoobler was the first one she would never truly see again. The others were gone but not forever, they were only stuck in a hospital somewhere or even sent home. Hoobler was not that lucky. The address he had given her would be of no use for no one would write her. Parents who knew nothing about her would receive a letter on how sorry she was, but it would only confuse them more, her broken English making it even worse. She could not even remember the last time she spoke to him. It might have been before the Germans broke through. If only she could say something to him now. What would she even talk about?

She turned to Roe, her eyes staying on him no longer than a moment before they turned back to the snow covered ground. From the corner of her eye, she saw him look at her. Neither said anything the whole time, not even when they parted ways.

. . .

The day had started out better than usual. Megan was a little more open, recovering from her loss quicker than expected though she still avoided human contact as much as possible when not working. Krista believed that it was because she had hardly seen her husband, marrying him rather quickly, hardly knowing him. You cannot mourn forever someone you hardly knew. Nixon had not come to see her either, which was probably for the best. Krista was constantly on the lookout for him. He would open wounds that had not healed yet.

What she noticed most about the day was the slowing flow of casualties. In fact, there had not been any yet. That there should have told Krista that something was wrong, that something was going to happen but she was so relieved by the fact of it, she hardly paid attention to the potential danger.

They heard the sound of artillery in the distance, themselves and the civilians immune to it already. The only ones who would jump at the sound were the men that would be haunted by it for the rest of their lives. It was simple background noise to Krista, as plain and boring as a jeep driving down the street or a nearby conversation. She almost did not even hear it if it were not for the fact that someone casually pointed it out.

"The Germans are up." They had said. She actually smiled at the comment. It was something she would regret for many years to come.

She had been sitting outside when it came, the thing that nearly destroyed her life. The sun was shining that day and Krista was taking her time to soak some of it in. Her body was doing much better now. She was allowed to walk around more, but that may have had to do with the fact that Megan did not really care anymore. Her thoughts were on nothing important, nothing that would cause the world to collapse. She was thinking of no one, just of how nice the day was and how beautiful the snowy terrain actually was. Again, she should have known.

When the jeeps passed by she hardly moved, not wanted to accept that casualties had finally come. She missed the days when she never saw a wounded man. They were few but they were blessings. Slowly she got up and moved to the aid station, trying to avoid doing anything. She felt bad for these men but there were plenty of others who could take care of them but something inside constantly compelled her to check on them anyway. No man could get by without seeing her, that was her unwritten law.

The casualty from the front of the jeep had been moved already but the one at the back was still waiting to be checked upon. Krista found that curious but did not really think of it as she walked up to the man. Surely he needed someone to be with him. Who knew what was going through his mind now.

As she approached the man, chills began to crawl up her spine. He looked so familiar. Had someone else been hurt or worse? She began to pray under her breath but deep inside she felt that it was too late for those things. As if he felt her presence, the wounded man turned to face her. Krista stopped in her tracks and gasped as she stared into the eyes of Joe Toye.

"Joe!" She ran to the jeep quickly, nearly slipping in the snow and crashing into the vehicle. Toye tried to smile reassuringly at her but his face was so pale and tired looking that it only made her feel worse. Krista looked over him, trying to find what was wrong. It did not take long for her to notice the stump that was once his leg. She reached out to touch it, coming close but then pulling back. "How…how did…are you…"

She looked at him for answers to so many questions that he already knew. It was now she noticed he was actually managing to smoke through it.

"Krauts caught me with my pants down." He said in between pained breaths. "One minute I'm up, then something whistled and now I'm here. Probably would not have made it even this far if it hadn't been for…" He made a mistake as he looked toward the building.

"What? Who is in there?" Krista asked, growing even more afraid. Toye did not respond. "Who?!" Now his eyes spoke and she knew who was inside, who was wounded because they wanted to save him, who was possibly dying or even dead. One breath managed to escape before she did anything.

The door seemed so far away as she ran for it, as though it moved back with every step she took. Time moved too slowly, precious seconds were being wasted. She could not lose him, not like this, not ever. She had not been given a chance. Would fate really do this to her, so shortly after Megan? Unfortunately the answer was obvious to her. She did not know why the question bothered coming up anymore.

She almost stepped on men as she ran inside, looking around blindly for him, tempted to call out his name only her voice was choked. In the back Roe stood, watching something through a doorway. She took that as the place she needed to be. Before she could make it through, Roe turned and stopped her, grabbing her shoulders tightly.

"Krista, you can't go in there."

"No, no I have to." She said, sounding desperate and on the verge of tears.

"Krista, he doesn't want you to." She stopped moving for a second and looked at Roe. His face became more pained upon seeing the look on hers. Something inside of her was dying.

She became almost angry. "I don't care about what he wants!" Krista shoved past Roe into the room where a few doctors crowded around the broken soldier. Moving one out of the way, Krista froze. There before her was Guarnere, his face twisted in pain, his leg barely attached to his body. There was so much blood. She had never seen so much. The last time it had been a bullet, something so simple and now it was…it was…she could not even bear to think of it. He looked so pale, so dead.

Guarnere looked up. "Krista?"

She had managed to hold it together until that point. Shock had washed over her but now that she heard his voice, heard the pain of it, heard something else that was not natural, it all fell apart. Fate had taken everyone but him, and now it stood ready to finish the job. Her head began to shake, trying to deny the reality she was faced with; her body began to shake, and tears fell uncontrollably. She cupped her hands over her mouth but nothing could cover the noises of a woman in pain. Everyone inside heard it, especially Guarnere whose physical pain seemed to leave him at that very moment. He wanted to run to her, to hold her and make sure that everything was alright. But nothing was alright and any attempt from him was only going to make it worse.

Then she ran. His heart began to sink as he watched her leave, blowing past Roe who quickly followed. Guarnere wished he had the strength to. He hated the Germans for making him this way, for making Krista have to see him like this but it was not these obvious hatreds that he took notice to. It was something small buried deep inside his soul that caught his attention. Somewhere something cried out hatred toward Krista, for her running, for making him wait, for not choosing. This small feeling inside made up something for him. He quieted down and his eyes glassed over as he began to accept it, unaware of the pain anymore.

Krista stumbled through the snow outside, eyes blind with tears. She did not know where she was running to; she did not care. It needed to be as far away from him as possible. A voice screamed within her, maybe it screamed on the outside as well but she could not tell. Something was dying, making itself known to the world. Everyone knew that she had reached the end, that she had come to some breaking point.

She tripped once more and fell in the snow, choosing to stay on the ground this time; she clawed at the ground for support, the snow numbing her hands and the rest of her body. If only it could take away the pain she was feeling. It was so indescribable, the feeling of a heart that was breaking, that was losing all hope in everything it had ever believed in, the feeling on giving up on life itself.

The sound of dying brakes managed to catch her attention. Her head turned slowly to the side, blurred vision eventually making out the shape of a jeep. Someone, the driver, was hopping out while the passenger was yelling some kind of profanity that she did not wish to pay attention to.

"Hey, lady, get out of the road!" The driver shouted as he got closer. Her focused turned to him, eyes filled with hatred. How could he have no sympathy? Had he no idea what she was going through? She would be better off being run over by the jeep. Why had he stopped?

Someone came from the side, picking up her limp body with ease. She knew who it was; there was only one choice. Roe was looking out for her, like she had done for him.

"Get that crazy woman out of here!" yelled the passenger. "She's slowing progress!" The man was a colonel or a general. Her eyes were too bad to tell the difference. It did not matter anyway, clearly he was in charge of something, the exact person she was looking for. Krista flew out of Roe's arms.

"It was you!" she cried, slamming her body into the side of the jeep, scaring the officer for the first time in a long while. "You are why he is dying! You killed him! You did!" She would have continued but Roe managed to pry her off the vehicle which took off shortly after. Krista fought with him, struggled to get free, was almost willing to hurt him to get away but Roe was having none of it. She was not going to run from these things anymore.

"Krista! Krista stop! It's me!" Roe shouted, grabbing her wrists to make her stop. "Krista, it's Eugene! Stop!" Something inside clicked and she looked up at him, looked into his concerned eyes and fell into his grasp.

"I killed him." She mumbled into his jacket, hands tightly grasping his collar. "I killed him."

"Krista, he's not going to die." Roe spoke into her hair.

"But he could. He could."

. . .

It was quiet, or at least as quiet as it could get. The chaos of the day had subsided, but now night took its turn. Men moaned and mumbled in their sleep, tossing and turning if possible. Every few minutes a scream would echo followed by flailing until someone calmed them down or the dream continued. Dream was an inappropriate word. They were memories. No living being could create in their minds what these men saw.

Her presence went unnoticed, as was expected. The men were not there, or she was not. They stared through her like a ghost, their gaze unending. Despite the pulse the nurses managed to find, the men were still dead.

They all looked the same at this point. Beaten down, bloody, scarred, broken shells of their former selves. Each carried an empty look, life drained, hope vanished. How could she find him? She would walk right past him, stare right into his eyes, and not even know it.

Everything looked different at night. She once knew where she was going, but the candles cast mysterious shadows that changed the shape of her route. He could be hidden in the darkness or even in the light. Perhaps she had strayed too far or perhaps not enough. Her mind was too weary to deal with it and still she continued.

A corner caught her eye, one that contained a person that looked familiar. She sucked in a breath as she prepared for the plunge, afraid to talk to him but more afraid that this could be her only chance.

She knelt next to him hoping not to disturb any sleep he may have found. What would have happened next, she was not sure, but there need not be any thought on that outcome. Him finding sleep was an impossibility.

"Hey." He whispered, "What are you doing?"

She said nothing; she simply lied down next to him, watching the reaction on his so different face. The happiness tried to show itself, but she did not believe it. She wished she could, but it would hurt too much. She could not fool herself anymore; she could not lose her grasp again.

He watched her curiously as she placed her arm around his chest. He grabbed the blanket and wrapped it over her, wishing he could turn to her, but knowing the pain would be great. The morphine was wearing off.

Her eyes spoke to him, saying things her voice could never convey. They sat in silence for many minutes, an unknown conversation passing between them. There were confessions, thanks, praise, all passing at once, quickly and quietly.

He decides to risk it and turns onto his good leg. She watches him wince in pain and becomes concerned. He brushes it off with a smile. She tries to smile back, but the effort was doomed from the beginning. In fact, the exact opposite appears on her face as she buries herself in his chest. He feels the wet tears on his skin and wraps his arms around her tighter.

"I do not want you to go." She managed to mumble. He held her tighter, understanding what she truly meant.

"I'm not going anywhere." He whispered. "The Krauts ain't getting me that easily."

Krista nodded, wishing she could believe him. She had seen so many cases like his, had seen so many not make it in conditions ten times better than the ones they found themselves in. How could she have faith in something he knew nothing about, that was completely out of his hands?

She watched him, holding back anything that was inside. Guarnere, on the other hand, could not. There was something he was struggling with inside, something more painful than the physical wounds inflicted upon his body. A new fear grew in her, fear of what he would say next.

He sighed. "Krista, I…I would like…if I asked now, would you stay with me?" Now it was his turn to watch the emotions on her face. She knew exactly what he was saying. Guarnere was no longer waiting while Krista pondered which route was less painful to her, to anyone. The fact of the matter was that she was currently choosing the most painful one. He was going to end it now, whether he got what his heart wanted or not.

"I…I do not…I cannot…I…" She looked at him, eyes flickering, full of confusion. There was so much about him that was everything she wanted, unfortunately she did not want much. Anyone met the criteria, which was what made this so difficult

Guarnere nodded, eyes hiding no hurt. "I know. I'm going to make it for you, Krista. You can't be with me." She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. "Look, Krista. I'm not going to be here much longer and I'm not about to let what happened to me push you into something you are not sure about." He sighed again, almost regretting what he was saying. "I ain't the guy for you, Krista. He's somewhere else and you know who it is. The fact that it's so hard for you to choose while he's not here and I am means something. You already picked, you just don't know it yet."

He settled back into his bed, looking disappointed in himself. Krista watched him a little longer, holding back the tears, nodding. She knew she could no longer stay. It would only hurt him more.

Carefully she slipped out of the aid station, wandering the streets of Bastogne in a daze, thinking of all that had happened, and all that had not.

* * *

Ta-dah! I finally put out another chapter! WHOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! Luck, everyone!


	21. Moving the Wounded

Sorry it took me so long again. I was at AIT. Thought it would be easier but I realized that I would much rather be at Basic Training. Ah well, I graduated that as well. Now I'm back home until I go to college, which means more time to work on this fic. Don't think that I have given up on this. It's a bit shorter than normal, I was struggling quite a bit with this one. Hope you still enjoy it.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty One: Moving the Wounded**

**Bastogne, Belgium**

**January 1945**

As if things in her life could not have gotten any worse, the next day she heard of the fate of Muck and Penkala. This time there would be no bodies to see, to have a final goodbye with so she whispered her last words to the wind for them. At least they had not suffered. They probably never knew it was coming.

Word had gotten to her that Buck had come off the line. They said it was for trench foot but all the workers knew it was for other reasons. Trench foot was the excuse they used when men could no longer stand the conditions they were in. Many officers did not approve of men coming off the line for idiotic reasons such as that so the medics in the area came up with the best excuses they could, if only to give the men a little rest. A man on the verge of snapping was not only dangerous to himself, but to others as well. He could not fight just like a wounded man, and risked harming others. They had seen it before.

Krista doubted Buck would ever do that. He was such as strong man, it surprised her that he had come off the line at all. Of course, despite her close proximity to the battle, she still did not know what they were going through. She still had a warm bed and warm meals. They had the cold and snow.

She entered the tent unnoticed, the chaos of surgery and wounded too distracting. They had set up several tents. There was no longer room in the other buildings. The officers had to sleep somewhere, unfortunately. The close quarters of the tent was a little unnerving. So many wounded men were next to each other, forced to look at someone who was worse off, or someone who had escaped in a better condition, terrible either way.

Near the back a man was curled up on a cot, his body almost too big for the thing. He hardly moved, looked at no one, eyes focused on something in the distance. What was going through his mind she could not even comprehend, she did not even wish to begin to. The thought of that alone made her depressed.

She sat next to him on a small stool that had been left there. Malarkey had tried to speak to him several times without any luck. Krista did not believe she would fare much better but she had to try, if only to tell herself that she had not lost everyone.

She took a deep breath. "Buck?" There was no response which was expected. No one had told her what he had seen. She had no idea what to say. "I heard you were here…is it warmer?" She smiled slightly, hoping that a familiar, friendly face would arouse something in the man. He blinked a couple times, still looking at the opposite end of the tent. Out of curiosity, she looked over as well, noting the man with his head nearly completely wrapped in bandages.

Krista sighed, looking at the broken man before her. What could do such things to these men? She found it interesting that she still asked herself that question after all that she had seen. Sometimes she wondered if she saw more than they did. She had broken but recovered, though just on the edge now. Anything could set her off, but these men were so much stronger than she was. They could not give up like this. They would not let her, how could she let them?

Slowly, she placed her hand on his shoulder. She got closer so only he would hear.

"I know," she whispered. "I lost them too."

Something awoke within Buck. His eyes flickered and turned in her direction. She was not certain what emotion now filled them but it was better than what was in them before: nothing.

His voice was only half her volume. "I saw them get hit." Her heart stopped, her focus complete. She knew who he was talking about. "Bill was carrying Joe. They were so close to me. Almost there." His voice trailed off, his attention now elsewhere. Krista's was as well, her eyes staring into a distant place. For a moment, the two looked alike, felt alike, shared the same devastation. Inwardly she struggled to keep it all together. She was sick of feeling weak, of breaking down. No one blamed her but she blamed herself. So many people went through worse yet kept going. She would become like them whether it hurt her or not.

Krista sucked in a deep breath, the last of the tears giving up on their destructive effort. She looked back over at Buck. He had been watching her, for how long she could not tell. Perhaps she had been struggling with her emotions for hours, though it was doubtful but it could not have been as short a time as it felt.

Buck nodded, the movement was so subtle that it hardly looked like more than his body stirring from breathing but she knew. There was no mistaking it. She nodded as well, more obvious than his, biting her lip, holding it back once again.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move. Krista looked down to find Buck's hand extended to her. Slowly her hand moved into his and at an equal rate his closed upon hers. Once again they shared something, only now it was a comfort. She had heard the saying of misery loving company. It was true but not always for the worse. Perhaps it was like that for only those who were pained as much as you were capable of helping for they were the only ones who could understand.

She saw a smile, imaginary or not, it was there. And so the cycle would begin again.

. . .

Krista did not dare go near Guarnere again. It was no longer his physical pain that she wished to avoid. He would live; she was confident of that now. If he made it this far, nothing was going to take him down. It was the look on his face that she could not bear to see again. What he said finally made sense to her. She had put him through so much for a man that was not even present, not capable of defending his position. He had to watch her struggle between himself and a man that knew nothing of the incident. She understood why he made the decision for her. It made her wonder, what would have happened if Webster came back?

It was these kind of questions that got her into trouble, that made her begin to doubt things. She thought of not questioning acts but that only got her into the dilemma she was in now; she read into things too much. She sighed. It did not matter anymore anyway. Guarnere made the decision and even though it would be a simple task to make him change his mind, he would try hard to fight it. Doing anything else would only make it more painful. She had done too much to him already.

She began to wander the area aimlessly, drifting in and out of the same thoughts that always occupied her. She must have been a pathetic sight, constantly looking the same, acting the same; she was becoming rather annoyed with it herself but what could one do when everything fell apart again and again?

Sighing, Krista sat on a random bench in some part of town that she did not know. It did not matter to her. The sound of people crying medic would lead her back eventually. She watched as water dripped in front of her, the temperature apparently warm enough to melt the icicles. It normally would have been a nice sight if it were not for the fact that if it was warm enough for the ice to melt, then it was warm enough to make the roads muddy and hard to travel on. Now it would take even longer to get the wounded back. It seemed like nothing could actually work to their benefit.

Her eyes gravitated toward a forming puddle of water. Through it she saw someone walk over on her left. Even though the reflection was blurred, she could tell who it was. Normally the sight would have brought a smile to her face but this was not the time for the person. His presence may just make things worse.

"I take it you're not happy to see me then?" Nixon asked, sitting down on the bench beside her.

Krista shook her head, looking at him. "I am…but you should not be here."

"Why, because of the war effort? I have to be the most useless thing out here. Me not being on the line isn't going to do anything."

"I did not mean that." She watched the confusion on his face grow. "You are here for Megan?" He nodded after a moment, the look on his face not changing. Krista sighed. "You should not see her. Not now. You might…hurt her."

"What are you talking about Krista?"

"I…I do not want to tell you. She has to. Please, not today."

Nixon nodded slowly. "Okay." She stared at him for a long while, not believing him in the slightest. When people wanted to see someone badly, nothing was going to stop them, even if it resulted in pain for the one they wished to see. She knew that all too well. Nixon would act no differently.

"Do not hurt her." Krista said after a while. Nixon could feel the threat in her voice. What could have gone so wrong that she would threaten him? Had she not known him longer? He began to become very concerned. Out of this concern, Nixon grabbed Krista by the shoulders tightly, almost shaking her as he asked his question.

"What happened to her?" All Krista could do was shake her head and look down, unwilling to answer his question.

. . .

She had told him where Megan stayed these days when she was not at the aid station. It was a little out of the way, no one would ever find it if they were not looking for it, a perfect place for someone that wanted to be alone. Her hiding place was a partially demolished home, no longer capable of being occupied according to the rest of the village. However, as he approached, Nixon could see smoke coming from the still intact chimney. Someone was there.

He stepped through what must have been the front door into what remained of the kitchen; he could feel heat emanating from a wool blanket that covered another doorway. It led to a small room that still had complete coverage from the roof. The room was very warm, heat finding few places to escape, and it was in this room that Nixon found her, huddled in the corner, watching the flickering flames intently.

"Megan?" He thought she glanced up at him, but it could have been the light playing tricks. He refused to move, waiting for a reaction from her. If he had to wait all day, he would. There would be no move until she made one.

He heard her sigh. "You were the only thing I could think about for a while. Out on the line with hardly any protection. Not a day passed when I did not believe I would find you in the aid station or worse." Now she faced him, a haunting look on her face. "I was so concerned about you, I forgot to think about anyone else, including my husband."

She began to laugh a little, desperately attempting to hold back tears but to no avail. "My husband. Normal people would think of their husbands first, and they would believe that others would do the same but no, not me. I was thinking about another married man but that's okay because…because I knew you were thinking about me too. That's why you're here right? Because you were thinking of me?"

Nixon nodded, "Yeah, that's right."

Megan nodded as well, looking away again. "It may not make sense to normal people but it does to me. You are supposed to think of the one you love the most, and my husband just happened to not be the one. Not once did I think about him, not once. You know, maybe if I had taken one moment out of my day to give him just a little concern, a worry, a longing sigh, a prayer, maybe he would still be alive."

Nixon felt like he had been hit by something. Now he understood Krista, wishing he had listened to her but this was something he would have had to face eventually although the circumstances may have been better. He was not going to lie to himself, he felt like leaving right there and then, some part of him wanted to be a coward and leave her be but another part, the majority, refused. He loved her, whether she knew that enough or not, and nothing was going to make him leave.

"I never really missed him when he was gone. I never really had feelings for him when he left or even when he was around. It had been a spur of the moment thing, something that neither of us really knew what to do with. That was why when I'm with you, there is no regret. I never felt bad about it. If he had done the same thing, I don't think I would care. I think I would have been relieved knowing that the man I was not in love with felt the same way about me. Do you hear me? I did not love him…so why do I miss him so much now?"

Nixon did not respond for a while, did not do anything. She asked an impossible question, one he was definitely not capable of answering. It put him in an interesting position. He had to be careful with what he did next.

He moved forward and took a seat next to Megan, wrapping his arms around her, letting her bury her face in his chest; he rested his head on hers, taking in the smell of her hair. It was one of the things he had missed most about her. She felt so frail in his arms; he thought he would break her, but the tighter his grasp, the stronger she became.

"I don't know." He whispered. "I think only you can answer that question but…I think that…if the same thing happened to me, I would miss my wife like you miss your husband now."

"Why?" she asked, thinking he would have the answer to his own question. To be honest, he did not know that one either but he had something that might qualify.

"Because…because there was a point in my life when I loved her like I should have. Somewhere inside that part of me still exists and if she died, it would too."

He felt her nod. "That makes sense."

"Yeah…I guess it does."

"You're not going to die are you?"

"No, no I'm going to stay right here. No one else is leaving you."

. . .

Krista was beginning to regret telling Nixon where Megan was. If anything happened that made her worse, she could not blame him. She knew it was going to happen. The only one at fault would be her, but that did not mean she would not do anything to Nixon. The thought of actually doing something to one of the men she had been with for so long made her stop and think for a moment. These past few days really had begun to change her. Was there nothing she could do to get away from it?

She had begun to wander again and it now brought her back to the aid station. A now so familiar feeling of pain struck her in the chest. She was surprised she felt it at all anymore. He was in there somewhere, maybe thinking about her, maybe not. She wanted to talk to him, wanted to know what he thought so desperately but she could not. It was for the best which was what she hated most.

Once again she began to think of the past few days, tried to remember what day it was. She thought she had heard it earlier. Yes, now she remembered. It was the seventh.

Krista froze where she stood. Her birthday had been four days ago and she did not even remember. It was understandable; she would have missed the New Year if one of the men had not pointed it out. She could not believe it though; she was twenty one now, and what had she gotten for a present? A frozen body and a broken heart. She remembered it clearly. Guarnere had come in on her birthday. He could have died on her birthday. Despite how terrible the fact was, it did not do too much damage to her. It was just another thing to add to the list of horrible events in her life. There was nothing left to be destroyed now.

The honking of a horn broke Krista from her thoughts again. She had stopped in the middle of the road. That was typical, everything was. Maybe if she thought about it enough, she could predict who would be hurt next, or killed. Muck could have made a pot from it, if he were still alive, Guarnere could have questioned her endlessly about it, it he were not going home, and Webster could have shaken his head at it all, if he were there. So many things could have happened, but the reality was so different, so unrecognizable that it hurt to think about it.

She took her time moving away from the truck, watching as it sped away to the aid station. They must finally be able to take the wounded out of the area. Many men would finally get the attention that they needed, including Guarnere.

Again she froze. Guarnere was going to leave today. Turning back quickly, she ran to find him, not caring how much it would hurt either of them. She would never see him again after this, something deep inside told her that; she was not about to let him leave without seeing him one last time.

There were a few trucks lined up in front of the aid station. Krista watched as Guarnere was loaded into the back one. She had almost missed him. Her heart nearly stopped at the thought. Running up, she found him easily. He sat near the opening, his back propped up against the side of the truck.

Guarnere looked over and smiled at her, as though nothing had happened, as though today were just another day in Easy Company. "Can you believe this? I don't even get to lay down, and now they've got me at the back? Something tells me they want me to fall out."

"You deserve it." Krista said, giving a genuine smile, the first that she did not have to struggle to find for a long time. Guarnere got that same look on his face that he had so many times before, the funny half insulted, half laughter look that could be found every time she said something like that to him. The thought of the days past brought the pain quicker, harder. It fought to make its way out; it was a fight she was slowly losing. Guarnere noticed and motioned for her to come up. He wrapped his arm around her. "It's gonna be alright, just wait. You'll forget about me in no time."

Krista looked up at him as though he were crazy. He looked better now, not as pale, more alive. It might have been the morphine talking but at least he was talking. "I do not want to forget you."

"That's good to know. I was afraid you would agree with me." She began to laugh a little, but it was cut short by the sound of a truck engine revving up, followed closely by their own. Krista looked desperately at Guarnere. His look was torn, lost. For once, he did not know what to say. She hugged him tightly, afraid to let go, but the trucks were beginning to move. She did not have much time.

The look on her face scared Guarnere, it made him afraid of everything he was giving up, but this was how it was supposed to be. He could not change that. "You can't Krista. It's not fair to him."

Her hands cupped around his face. "I do not care." She kissed him then. It was the last of many things. The last time to taste him, to feel his skin on hers, to feel the love he had for her. There was so much passion in this last kiss that even Guarnere felt tears rolling down his cheeks. She began to get down from the truck then, holding onto one of his hands. Guarnere got as close as he could to the edge, keeping his face close to hers. He could no longer hold back what his heart felt.

"I would have married you, Krista Nimholtz." Her hand slipped from his grasp as the truck began to drive away. She stared, unresponsive save for the increased flow of tears. Guarnere watched in pain as she fell to her knees and then as the truck got further away, her arms hit the ground too. There she stayed for a while, no one around to comfort her this time, no one to try to make the pain go away. She had thought there was nothing left to kill, but Guarnere had found it. He was always the one to find it.

. . .

The church was quiet despite all of the people inside. Even the choir seemed to be performing at a whisper, afraid to disturb the men's thoughts. They were off the line at last, though it was too late for some of them. The lit candles before them were evidence of that. It was almost unnatural to them, a warm place to sleep, the sounds of war only a distant rumble, the wind only a howling noise outside; it felt like too much.

The nuns had been reluctant to let Krista in at first, but the men were convincing. She sat on one of the front pews, her head resting against Liebgott's shoulder, a new, deader look to it. This time, she did not stick out. All of the men had the same look, shared the same pain of loss. Misery loves company and now she finally had hers. Draped across her lap was a sleeping Luz. She absently stroked his hair, much like she had with Pierre but this time the man was not dead. He might have been worse off.

Krista watched one of the candles. It was the wildest of the group, flickering back and forth constantly, unable to sit still; it was Guarnere's, at least that was what she believed. It acted a lot like him: crazy, the kind that kept her going so many days. How could she keep going now?

She kept going over the last thing he said to her, the one that had truly taken her heart and ripped it out. Had she ruined a perfect thing? There still may have been a chance for her to save it. If he had been willing to marry her once, he would still be now.

_I ain't the guy for you, Krista._ His voice echoed in the church.

How did he know he was not? It did not matter what he thought, only what she thought mattered. He loved her; he could not say no forever.

_You already picked, you just don't know it yet._

How could she miss a man so much, how could he break her heart so much and he not be the one? None of this made any sense. She hated everything that was happening to her and hated Guarnere for not getting out of her head, hated him for saying what he did. Why did he have to say that, he knew what would happen. It could only hurt.

She blinked back tears that would not come; she had run out long ago. Her body was tired of crying.

A figure walked past, dark and intimidating. It was the new commander of Easy Company. She had heard that Dike had been replaced not that long ago, something about him freezing up during battle. How a commander could do that, she did not know. Of course, the men had not chosen him, no one had except someone higher up that none of them had ever met. According the men, the new commander, Captain Speirs, was crazy, doing things that they could only describe as suicidal stunts all by himself. Many respected him for that, saying he was the perfect example of a commander that would not let his men do anything he would not do himself. It sounded like they had finally found the right man. She wanted to be happy for them but it was going to take a lot more than a competent captain to bring a smile back to her face.

She had heard the rumors about him, about the German prisoners. If it was true, she could not blame him for what he did. She could not blame any of the men for what they did to the enemy, even if they were her people. Clearly they no longer wanted her. What she had also heard was that this man was quick to judge, and this would be the first time he ever met her. He knew about her, there was no doubt about that. By now her rumor had spread throughout at least the battalion. He would have heard the words about a woman tagging along with Easy Company, one who had been through times supposedly worse than their own. Now he got his chance to see her. Krista did not care what he thought of her. She had earned at least that.

Krista looked down at the sleeping Luz, wondering how he was able to do it. She was not the only one.

"How can he sleep?" Liebgott asked, his voice hardly a whisper, but seeming to echo anyway. "Every time I close my eyes, all I see are things that I don't want to."

Krista shrugged. "_Point of exhaustion, eventually sleep always wins. You sleep so deeply even the memories cannot find you."_

"_I envy him."_

"_We all do."_

It would be a long time before she could be like Luz. Maybe she would fall asleep that night, maybe she would not. The latter seemed more realistic. Every time it becomes harder to hit exhaustion, every time her body was more unwilling to sleep, afraid that it might see what it feared most. She did not see what difference it made. The images could never be escaped. At least now she was not alone in the feeling. They all knew what it was like to be her.

What she hated the most was the fact that this thought comforted her.

* * *

Yeah, I just sucked all of the joy out of the world, didn't I? Happiness shall come again, don't worry. Until next time (which won't take as long, promise)!


	22. A Familiar Face

Alright, chapter 22! Been having fun writing this one, Webster is back! You know what that means: conflict! One of my longer chapters. Just couldn't stop. I hope you guys love this one as much as I did. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter Twenty Two: A Familiar Face**

**February 1945**

**Haguenau, France**

It had taken a few more weeks in the hospital, much physical therapy and a lot of begging at the replacement depot but he finally did it; he was heading back to Easy. He missed the company a lot, almost every day, not to mention the German girl that had a tendency of tagging along with them. It was a relief to be going back. No more worries about being stuck with a group of green guys. He had heard of the hard times they encountered during the Battle of the Bulge and realized that he may be a little behind them, but he had every confidence that he could catch up quickly. Webster had no idea of how green he actually would be.

The men had looked more than beat, they looked like corpses. They were more than qualified for the title that the newspapers had given them: The Battered Bastards of Bastogne. It was all Webster could think about as he passed each of the vehicles. Despite their condition, he had expected a warm welcome, or at least a friendly smile. Instead all he received were hard looks and aggravated sighs. They were all instantly sick of him, more comfortable with men that had been replacements before he left. It looked like he had become one of them.

Somehow he made his way over to the CP. He should have known that it would have been one of the bigger buildings in the area, a little further back from the line. That was how it always worked. Combat in a forest for a couple weeks was not going to change that. He sat down inside, appreciating being indoors. Maybe now he would embarrass himself a little less.

He had been looking around, observing every inch of the building purely for entertainment when he heard her voice. When he came back, he had not been certain that he would see her again. She had told him that they had discovered her and that she had been moved somewhere else, but he should have known she would find a way to be with them again. She was the most determined being he had ever met. General Eisenhower himself could not stop her from doing what she wanted, not when it came to the men.

"Carwood, you need to sleep."

Luz began to laugh. "Jesus, Lip, now I know it's serious. She never uses your first name."

Lipton repositioned himself on the couch. "Yeah, I know." He looked at Krista. "I will get some rest but not until I've taken care of a few things." He stopped to cough. "We just got here, you know."

Krista placed her hands on her hips. "You will let paperwork kill you?"

The look on Lipton's face hardened. "If it gets the job done." There was a humph, then Krista turned and stormed out, having not once turned in Webster's direction. For all she knew he was still in the hospital or halfway home. Either way, he was the last thing on her mind. For now she had forgotten him.

"Where are you going?"

"To get your bed ready!" She shouted from down the hall. Luz began to laugh again, unable to breathe for a few minutes.

"You're not helping, Luz."

"I'm sorry, Lip, but you know you're not going to win." Lipton sighed, nodding his head, returning to whatever paperwork he had.

Webster had watched the scene, wanting to speak up so badly but he had held back, watching her instead. Her clothes were horribly dirty, just like the men. He almost thought that she had been in the forest with them, something that she was capable of doing but he knew that the men would have drawn the line there. She must have come close though, seen something. He had heard about Guarnere, that he had gotten injured, leg taken off or something like that. She would have seen him if she were there. They were close, good friends. It must have hurt her a lot.

A new man entered the room, outfit as clean as Webster's. He was an officer, butter bar, second lieutenant, must have recently graduated from OCS or West Point. The men were reluctant to come to some form of the position of attention but since the man was new, they did not want to have to deal with the petty complaints that they typically came with. They would be proper for now but eventually the man would have to learn.

The new lieutenant appeared a little confused. "Your commander allows women to stay with you?"

Luz smiled. "I take it you met Krista then, sir?"

He nodded, assuming that they, hopefully, only had one woman with them. "She was shouting in German all the way down the hall."

Luz looked at Lipton. "You're in for it this time. She really hates you."

Lipton coughed. "I think she'll be the one to kill me."

Webster continued to watch. She was so confident now, unafraid of her German heritage or what others thought of it. Clearly the lieutenant, who came to be known as Lieutenant Jones, was a little disturbed at the fact that she spoke the language of the enemy. It was bad enough that they were letting a woman roam about freely on the front line but if she was a German citizen, he could not imagine. He would say nothing though, at least not yet. He, like Webster, wished to avoid embarrassment.

Jones snapped to attention as the new company commander entered the room. Webster remembered all of the stories men had told about Speirs, about him shooting prisoners, even his own men. It was strange to see them so calm around him now, taking to him easily. He must have done something impressive with them. He hated not knowing what was going on. There were so many things he had missed; he felt that he would never catch up.

"Lipton, I told you to stop and get some rest." Speirs said, placing his findings on the counter before him.

"So did Krista." Luz said, choosing to walk away then. Lipton threw a glare in his direction before he left.

"That's why she's shouting." Speirs lit the cigarette that had been sitting in his mouth. He had taken to the German nurse rather quickly, finding how she kept the men's spirits high advantageous. She was strong and the most stubborn thing he had met. Even if he had not wanted her there, it would not have stopped her. He had to admire that about the girl. "Lipton, do you like ignoring your nurse and your superior officer?"

"No, sir." Lipton replied, coughing. "Just don't want to be useless."

"Well, as long as you're coughing every other word, you're not going to be very useful. Get some rest, get better, then you can catch up." Speirs turned around and saw Jones for the first time. "Who are you?"

Before Jones could answer, in came Nixon and Winters. More officers. Jones looked scared. It was almost entertaining seeing the look on his face. Krista entered the room again as well, holding a mug. Once again she did not look his way, once again she did not know.

"Drink this." She said, setting the mug down before Lipton and walking away. He knew it was not a suggestion and that somehow she would know if he did not drink from it. It was like his wife had come to combat.

Krista came up behind Nixon who was observing the new officer. She stood on her tiptoes in order to look over his shoulder, smiling at the new face. "He is tall."

Nixon nodded. "That he is. You know he graduated our first day in combat."

"You were training when I was in combat."

Nixon looked at her. "That practically makes you an old lady." She stuck her tongue out at him. Jones watched the two, confused about her relationships in the group. The way she acted around the men could not be good for the unit. The fact that she could hear their plans for a mission that night made him nervous.

"Sir, permission to speak."

Nixon nearly laughed. He had not heard a line like that for a while; he almost forgot how to respond to it. "Granted."

"Sir, is it wise for her to be here while mission plans are being discussed?"

Krista and Nixon looked at each other for a moment. "She's been at this longer than any of us. She ought to be drawing up the battle plans." Nixon walked away then. Krista took a moment to beam in Jones' direction before going back over to Lipton.

Winters smiled, wanting to get in on it. "Krista, what's our plan?"

She did not even look over. "Kill Hitler."

"We trust her, Lieutenant. So should you." Winters walked over to the first sergeant. "Lipton, you need to get some rest. Krista, help him to the back. He can take one of the beds there."

Krista smiled. "I win."

Speirs looked around the room. "Okay, uh, Lieutenant, you will be assigned to second platoon. Tell Heffron, McClung and Ramirez that they are on the mission tonight." He glanced around again. "Take…Webster with you."

Krista froze. She could feel her heart climbing in her chest, the only thing that she could hear. Could that have been right? Almost instantly she turned around, looking at the corner that had gone long ignored by her. She knew that someone had been there and had assumed it was a replacement. How wrong she had been. There he stood, looking at her, wanting to say something but remaining silent. She could feel tears forming.

Over the past couple weeks she had slowly torn herself away from the memories, forcing them away in order to concentrate on the men that were with her and needed her help then. She could not help anyone if she was distracted. Eventually she did get better, remembered how to smile and have fun, trying to remind the men of how that felt. Megan, however, was not going to recover so easily. She went back to the small house they had shared with Chelsea and Lou. Krista had even managed to forget about Guarnere some days and did not always think about how many lives she had messed up, and how many had messed up her own. Now that Webster was back, he tore open old wounds and brought back the memory of the man she had been willing to leave him for. This was not the right time for her to see him, no time was the right time but especially not now, not in front of people that had no idea what was going on.

Speirs noticed her lack of movement. "Krista, Lipton is not dead yet and I would prefer him to remain that way."

Shaken from her daze, Krista nodded, helping Lipton to his feet and out of the room.

Webster watched her leave, mouth agape, uncertain of what to think of the situation. He had never been sure of how she would react to seeing him again. He had been gone for so long and they had lost touch with their letters; he had assumed she had moved or the Army lost it, which would not have surprised him. This reaction though, it was something that he never would have expected. When she looked at him, he saw pain. Not pain from the past weeks on the front lines, literally pain from seeing him. What had he done to make her feel that way?

"Private?" Webster looked up at Jones who looked ready to leave though he had no idea where he was going. He nodded, standing up, leading the way out of the door. They crossed the streets cautiously, waiting for the familiar noise of a mortar. Other men walked around without much of a care, looking at the two strangely, then seeing how clean their uniforms were and understanding. Most of these men would assume that Webster was a replacement and he hated that. He had seen D-Day and Market Garden but they would never know that simply because he had never been to Bastogne. He supposed acting the way he was did not exactly help his situation.

They leaned against a building for a bit, waiting for something, though they did not know what.

"Webster, is it?" Jones asked. He nodded. "May I ask what the situation with this woman is?"

He was quiet for a moment. "Her name is Krista Nimholtz. I, uh…she's…It's a long story, sir. For now, let's just say she's the company's personal nurse."

Jones nodded, perhaps a little more confused, but somewhat satisfied at the moment. They continued to sit in the spot a little longer, watching as a figure emerged from the CP which was still very much in sight. It felt as though they had taken forever to move only a few blocks. The person walked down the street just as calmly as all the others had. It was only when they got closer that Webster noticed it was Krista. He straightened up at the sight of her, something only an oblivious man would miss. Jones was not one. He had noticed what had gone on inside the CP and was even more curious now.

"Is there something going on between you two?"

Webster did not reply, continuing to watch the nurse from afar. She paused a moment, looking around, her eyes landing on him. He did not doubt that she recognized who it was. She turned away quickly and headed inside a nearby building, pace faster than before.

He sighed. "I thought there was once. Now I'm not so sure." Webster was silent a while, thinking. He then noticed that Jones was still there and he was looking at him strangely. Maybe admitting that he had felt something for the woman that was stuck with the company was not the best thing to admit to a replacement, an officer especially. Most of the men did not even know what was going on, at least he hoped they did not. He shook his head. This was too much to deal with.

He stood up. "Let's go."

Krista watched as the two moved away from inside the aid station. It was empty at the moment, but she doubted that this would be the case for long. She was so focused on the men that she hardly noticed the medic approach her.

"Who are you hiding from?" Roe asked, confused.

Krista jumped, looking at Roe quickly. "No one."

He looked out the door. "The Lieutenant?" Word of the new officer had already spread. Despite everything, Easy's gossiping ability had yet to dwindle.

"No."

Roe squinted at the other figure, almost saying replacement when he realized who it was. "Webster?" There was no reply. He took her silence as a yes; he looked down at her, even more confused. "I thought you would have been happy to see him again."

Krista tried to smile. It may have worked for some men but not Roe. He knew her too well. "I am happy." He gave her a look. "I…will be happy." It sounded more like a question.

Roe sighed, kneeling down. "What is going on Krista? I know you haven't been the same since Guarnere got hit, I can understand that, but I also know this all started when Webster got hurt." Krista was afraid to look at him. He knew too much about her. "You'd been doing so well these past couple weeks, I thought Webster coming back would only make you better. Instead it's making you worse, I can already see that. I don't know what's going on, Krista, but I can put two and two together." Now she did look at him, afraid. Was it all that obvious?

"I'm tired of seeing you get hurt, Krista. Why don't you do something for yourself for once? Make life easier on you. It's not a lie when I say that when you are miserable, the rest of the company is." He walked away then, leaving Krista with her thoughts. She turned back to where Webster once stood. What scared her the most about him being back was that she understood then, understood how she could never choose. The moment she saw him, she felt the reason why Guarnere never had a chance, why Webster was still able to fight for her even in his absence. What she had with Guarnere was confusing. Maybe she loved these men too much. She was so desperate to not see them hurt that she would fall for them.

Krista shook her head, standing up. That did not make much sense to her, but nothing did anymore. She wanted to go to Webster, to be with him but out of the lingering emotions that she still had for Guarnere, she stayed where she was. He had let her go so she could be with him, had purposely broken his heart when he knew he could have had her, she felt that going further was not fair to him.

She sighed. More things that did not make sense. Maybe it would all be easier if she just crossed that river and surrendered herself to the Germans.

. . .

Showers had come for the men, and new uniforms, much to the relief of everyone. They could at least get rid of some of the stink and would no longer have to look like they had been sitting in the mud for the past few days. Nixon had even been able to get Krista a new outfit which she wore now as she wandered about. The men gave her curious or dirty looks, depending on how well they knew her. The newer men thought they could show off to her, the ones that had been there a bit longer smiled at their attempts having learned their lessons, and the ones that knew her best made sure that the new men got nowhere near her.

She approached what appeared to be second platoon breaking up, or at least what was left of it, which was not much. They had lost the most men of any and appeared to be no more than a squad at times. Again, she did not notice Webster, perhaps on purpose this time. Instead she gravitated toward Liebgott, whose look concerned her.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." His tone was not the most convincing. She folded her arms and waited for the rest. "We got this patrol over the river tonight, most of second platoon is in it, and they're making Malarkey lead it." Krista had been watching Malarkey for some time. His condition could only be described as what she was like most of the time, and getting worse. She knew he had lost a lot in Bastogne. Muck and Penkala, his closest friends, were killed. Toye and Guarnere wounded and never coming back. All he had at that point was Buck but he was long gone. She was not sure if he would ever recover. Some days she wished Malarkey could get the trench foot excuse to get off the line but she knew he would never take it, but letting him lead this now when there were so many others better off than him, she could not accept that.

"No, no he cannot do it."

"That's what the rest of us said but it's not like he's got an option."

"I will talk to Winters."

Liebgott sighed. "You can't do that, Krista. He's battalion level now. It was Captain Speirs' choice. You've got to draw the line somewhere. He's not going to give you everything you ask for."

Krista was quiet. He had a point. Maybe she could not help her friend now. Winters most likely had too much on his mind and she doubted that if she went around asking for volunteers to lead that anyone would raise their hand. Like her or not, no one was about to risk their lives because she wanted them to. It would not be fair either.

Heffron came up behind her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "What's with all the gloomy faces? We get new outfits today."

"Yeah, and you're making hers dirty."

He looked over. "Oh shit, sorry there Krista."

"How are you so happy? You just heard the same news I did. A clean shirt gonna make that go away?"

"I just remembered that I get a shower. That will make any guy's day better. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get in line before the water gets cold." Heffron looked back over at Krista. "Try not to peek. A lot of these guys are shy."

"Including you?" Krista asked, smiling.

"Hey, I'd invite you inside but it's kinda crowded." Liebgott rolled his eyes, getting annoyed with people. He picked up some snow and threw it at the back of Heffron's head, hitting the target perfectly while Krista laughed, understanding the conversation completely.

Liebgott grabbed her arm. "Let's get you out of here."

"Why?" Krista asked, enjoying every second of what was happening. "Jealous?"

"No, but I don't want to have to punch a bastard that tries to put on a show for you, Babe included."

Krista continued to laugh, shaking off Liebgott and continuing away from the showers on her own. She was smiling again. It felt nice. As she walked up the street, though, she spotted a figure leaning against a building, waiting for her. It was Webster. The smile disappeared instantly, all good feelings melting, a fact that she hated. There was no getting away from this conversation.

She continued to walk in his direction but at a much slower pace. Webster waited. At least she was not running from him. That was one thing to be thankful for though he still did not know why. He was going to find out now, whether she wanted to tell him or not.

She finally stopped in front of him, quiet, eyes toward the ground, waiting for him to make the first move. Webster chose to look at her for a little bit, seeing everything different, confirming that how she acted was only because of him. He sighed, making her feel worse, remaining silent. She would not get her way this time.

"Hello David." He only nodded, continuing the silent treatment. She hated this but knew she was deserving of whatever he gave her. They sat that way for a while, two immovable, unreadable characters, lost in something that neither completely understood.

"What…what happened, Krista?" It was a simple question with an answer that could take days. She did not know where to begin, what to tell him, what he would be better off not knowing.

"It is…complicated."

For the first time Krista saw what she could have described as anger in Webster's eyes. He was tired of the excuses already. She could not blame him. It was bad enough he returned to a group of men that she knew would not accept him but the one thing that he thought would at least welcome him did the exact opposite. He wanted answers and all she was doing was leading him on, but even she was not sure what the real answer was.

"I figured that much." He said, voice cooler. It felt like something stabbed her. She could not take this from him; she felt his hands on her shoulders. It was only then that she realized she was shaking. Krista looked up at him, struggling to maintain eye contact. He looked calmer now, concerned. "I know a lot has happened since I last saw you, maybe too much. I want to help you Krista, but you have to let me. I heard about Guarnere. That could not have been easy."

Krista had to bite her lip hard, almost drawing blood, to keep from breaking down. He had no idea. To Webster, Guarnere was still just a close friend of hers, some kind of companion that she would miss but it was so much more than that. How could she tell him what had happened while he was gone? How could she break his heart like that? She had gone too far, done too much. It was unforgivable. She could have stopped it so many times yet she continued to make the hole she dug deeper, make it nearly impossible to get out of. Webster did not deserve any of this. He had done nothing wrong.

"What is it?" Webster realized that he should not have said that. It was too soon for her. Not once did it occur to him that she could have done something wrong. He trusted her too much, thought that after she confessed her heritage to him that there would be no more lies. He was blinded by her, did not understand. She wished he could see more, maybe then this would not be as difficult, she would only have to explain it to him instead of having to tell him as well. How could she do both?

He tried to embrace her, tried to make her feel better, try to go back to the days when everything made sense but she backed away. Those days were long gone. She could not let him live in a lie; she would have to tell him the truth, if only for his sake. This is going to hurt him maybe more than it would hurt her but in the end it was for the best. Whether or not she could be with him was no longer her decision, but even if he did choose her, decided that after all she did he still wanted her, she still was not certain if she could be with him. Guarnere would forever haunt her and while one day she would get over him, for now he was still a factor in her decision.

"I…I…Guarnere…he…" Could she really say this to him? Could she really break his heart like this, now, in front of everyone he knew? If she did not do it now when would she ever have the courage? "He loved me." It was then that moment that she saw everything she had done to him collapse upon his soul. She saw the hurt, the pain, the anger, the confusion all mixed into one that slowly broke the heart she had been trying to build up again. Everything she did was wrong, everything she did hurt someone even when she tried to make things right.

It was now that the anger took over once again. "And did you love him?" His anger was not what she expected. It was not obvious like it was for the other men. They would say things through clenched teeth, ball up their fists and look ready to strike someone. He did not do any of those. His eyes became cold, hardened. He looked numb like she had so many days. She knew what he felt and it scared her; she did not know why. Maybe it was because she knew him too well, knew him better than Guarnere and that all along he was the one for her and she had destroyed that chance.

"_I do not know what I felt." _Krista felt his hands slip off her shoulders. She refused to look at him as he walked away. There would be no getting through to him. What would be the point? Anything she could do would only hurt him more, force him to be around the woman he had loved, the woman that had now broken his heart. He had thought she would have been the one to not treat him differently; instead she had done worse than any of the other men were capable of.

Krista looked to the sky, waiting for an answer to the question she had been asking for some time: why her? Again only silence filled the air. There would be no tears now. She was not deserving of them; she was not deserving of much these days, if anything.

. . .

It was late, or early, depending on how one would want to look at it. Krista sat in the aid station, watching the river. If she concentrated hard enough, she could see the small boats making their way to the other side. The mission was suicide, but at least Malarkey was not leading it. Unfortunately, Martin had replaced him. He did not seem too happy about the idea, mumbling something inaudible to Krista before he left.

She had heard Webster was on the mission as well. Part of her wondered if it had anything to do with her but she quickly pushed that idea aside. It made perfect sense that he was out there. She tried to hide the concern that she felt but her heartbeat was nearly capable of bringing down the building. He had to be distracted. Her taste in timing had yet to change. Why could she not have avoided it more? Instead of anger, he would have been feeling concern. Which was worse she did not know.

She watched the movement in the darkness, heard the shots, the explosions. Suddenly the frozen town burst to life. Machine guns opened up from somewhere on either side of the street and the river. Mortar rounds were shot off as were tracers, lighting up the night sky. It was a brilliant firework display, slowly bringing her back to that fateful night in Bastogne.

Standing up, Krista made her way outside. It was a stupid, dangerous decision but she was not thinking now. Not a single word of warning flowed through her mind as she stepped onto the street. Bullets ricocheted off nearby walls. She hardly flinched, so used to the feeling of being shot at. Death was the last thing she could ever fear. It had been after her for too long.

Krista barely heard his shouts, hardly felt his arm grip her, pulling her back to safety. Her mind scarcely registered the impact as she was hit up against a wall, his shouting a distant whisper to her ears. Eventually his voice began to break through.

"What is the matter with you?!" Roe screamed, the only way to get her attention. "You could have been killed!"

"_No I would not have. They've tried this long with no success. Apparently I'm not meant to die."_

"Dammit, Krista, I don't know German. What are you saying?"

She looked around for a moment, as though confused by her surroundings. Pushing away the arms that pinned her to the wall, Krista began to walk to another room. Roe watched her, wanting to follow but knowing he should not. He wanted to know what was happening.

"Krista?" She turned back to him briefly, giving him a smile she hoped would be reassuring, knowing that he would not believe it.

Krista sat in a chair in a corner of the room where no one would see her. She buried her head in her hand, trying to figure out what had just happened. Nothing made sense anymore. Was she really so desperate that she would let them kill her? Things had hit a new level, on the verge of self destruction. It was so hard to believe that all of this could have resulted because she was her father's daughter. She wanted to hate him, blame him for everything that had happened to her but shifting the guilt would only worsen it. She could have laughed at that thought. Things could hardly get worse.

There were shouts in the aid station. Someone was calling for Roe, yelling that someone had been hit. Krista stood up, ready to go, almost certain that it was Webster. That was how things worked with her.

Together Krista and Roe departed for a building near the river, ignoring what had only happened not ten minutes before. She seemed to have recovered from whatever it was. Roe would have to deal with that for now.

They had brought the wounded man into the basement of the building. He was lying on a table, crowded by the others, screaming. It was not Webster but Jackson, only a boy, could not have been older than her. They had brought the wounded man into the basement of the building. He was lying on a table, crowded by the others, screaming. It was not Webster but Jackson, only a boy, could not have been older than her. She heard them talking about how he was hurt, something about his own grenade. He had been excited.

There was not much that could be done so she stood back and watched. Roe knew this as well but he tried anyway. By the time he got Jackson to calm down, it was too late. He was fading. All of the men stood by and watched as the private died, unable to say anything but hang on, knowing that it would do nothing. The room fell silent, save for the whispered prayers of the German prisoners.

Krista looked in their direction, catching Webster's gaze. He had been watching her. She nodded curtly, not wishing to deal with it.

"Are there other wounded?" she asked, not getting a response at first.

"Think one of the krauts got nicked in the leg." Someone mumbled.

"He doesn't need help," said another. "Doesn't deserve it."

Krista ignored the comment, moving to the small room where the prisoners were. The men watched every move carefully, waiting for an excuse to shoot either of the prisoners. She kneeled down in front of one of them, looking at his ankle where the blood flowed quickly.

"_It is not bad. You will be fine. Try not to walk on it."_ She spoke, instantly regretting it. There was no need for this man to know that she spoke German, though her accent could hardly be missed.

"_You are German?"_ She nodded. _"Why are you working with the Americans? Are you their prisoner? What do they do to you?"_

"_They do nothing to me. I am not their prisoner. I came willingly."_

His eyes widened in disbelief. She sensed Webster getting closer, knowing he could understand the conversation; she was asking for some kind of trouble, she knew it.

"_How could you work with them willingly? You betrayed your people, you betrayed the Fatherland!"_

She gave the German a cold look. _"I betrayed no one. Germany had destroyed itself. I would do this again in an instant."_

Krista had never been certain how the man would react. With the men there, she had thought it would have been no more than a rant, but she was wrong. With all the force he could muster, the German slapped Krista across the face, knocking her to the ground, disorienting her for a moment. The other German looked on in horror, not daring to pull off something with the armed Americans so close.

There was shouting and movement. When Krista looked up, she saw a man beating the German, getting pulled off by the lieutenant while Martin pointed his rifle in the German's face.

"Try something, I dare ya!" He shouted.

Krista looked at the lieutenant, seeing Webster in his grip. He still looked at the German, eyes filled with more anger than she had ever seen. It surprised her, maybe scared her a bit. He had never come across as a violent person but he appeared willing to kill the man right then and there. She had to assume that the others would have done the same thing but with what happened earlier in the day, it only confirmed things for her.

Shaking off the lieutenant, Webster walked outside, in need of some air. Standing up, Krista shared a glare with the prisoner and proceeded to follow him, insisting that she was perfectly fine.

Things had calmed down now and a quiet had returned to the town. In the moonlight, Krista could see Webster's figure leaning against a building. His breathing was heavy. He did not even appear to be trying to calm down. Maybe it was not just his anger at the German that was unleashed in the blows.

She stood next to him, silent for a moment, waiting for the right time. The problem was no time would be right.

"Thank you." She spoke quietly, afraid to provoke him.

"For what?" he asked, anger laced in every syllable. "Anyone else would have done it."

"But you did." She knew the point had been made, his shoulders slumping as proof. He turned to her, anger slowly disappearing, replaced by a questioning look; he needed answers, could not live without them.

Krista sighed, digging in the pocket of her jacket. She pulled out the letter that had haunted her for days, handing it to him. It was not an explanation but it was the start of something. He turned it over, ignoring the blood that was on it; he would never assume that it was hers. She would not tell him either. There was no need for his concern to cloud whatever decisions he needed to make.

"What did it say?" she asked, hoping that he would not tell her.

He crumpled up the letter and shoved it in his pocket. "Nothing important." Webster turned away again, not wanting to face her when he spoke. "I thought about you every day, couldn't wait to see you again. When I heard about the Germans breaking through the line, I knew you'd be there. It scared me, thinking everyday that you might die."

She said nothing, only resumed her staring at the ground.

"Did he kiss you?"

Krista looked up for a moment. "What?"

"Did he kiss you first…or…or did you kiss him?"

"It does not matter."

Webster gripped her shoulders tightly, nearly hurting her. "Did he kiss you?" She stared at him in surprise for a moment before nodding slowly. He backed down slightly. "He deserved to have his leg blown off." At first, Webster did not register the stinging on the left side of his face, could not accept the sight of Krista slapping him, could not put it all together. It was when she spoke, eyes filled with angered tears, that it all came together for him.

"He knew nothing!"

"Then why didn't you tell him?!" Webster shouted, equally angered. There was no doubt that people could hear their argument but they did not care. "You know, the moment I saw you, there was something different about you. I couldn't wait for the next time I got to see you, got to talk with you. When you found me at the hospital, it was the greatest thing that ever happened to me, even before you kissed me." He stopped for a moment, thinking over the last part. Krista stood still, listening to all the things she never knew, hating herself more but not showing it. "The kiss…did that mean anything? Does this?" Both his hands cupping her face, Webster moved her forward, slamming his mouth against hers, filled with more passion than the first time he had kissed her.

She thought it would have been short but the kiss lingered. His hands moved down her neck, her arms wrapped around his, hands playing with his hair. He moved backward, hitting against the wall of the building with a grunt, hardly affected otherwise. It was when her hands knocked off his helmet that they came to their senses, eyes locking, backing off. They watched each other for a while, both breathing hard now. She did not need to answer him. He knew.

"Why?" he asked, breaking the long silence.

Krista shook her head. "I do not know." She turned around then, unable to face him after whatever it was had just happened. "_If it makes you hate Guarnere less, he refused to be with me. He could not win a fight with a man that was not here. Though I had not said it, he knew I chose you."_

She walked away then, hoping that Webster did not follow. He obliged, watching her leave, perhaps more confused than ever. He had no idea what to think now, what to feel. Everything was a blur, nothing made sense. She loved him, he could tell, about as much as he loved her. It should have been simple after that; instead it was on the verge of falling apart.

There would be no sleep for either of them that night.

* * *

I have to say, Webster was very out of character at the end but I find that to be perfect. I was so happy writing their argument. It pleased me very much.

I think writing my Sons of Anarchy fic might have influenced me ever so slightly. Oops.

Hope you liked it! See you next chapter!


	23. Returning Home

Short, sweet and simple chapter, moving the plot forward toward its final goal. I'm trying to update faster but being the fanfic freak that I am, I'm currently working on five stories on here plus my novel plus a couple others that haven't been posted…and this is while I'm not in school! And I start in May! OMG…

I dedicate the chapter to K. S. Midgard. Thanks for the truly inspiring email. :D

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Three: Returning Home**

**March 1945**

**Mourmelon-le-Grand, France**

Krista watched the traffic in the street below, leaning on the window sill she thought she would never see again. To say that Chelsea and Lou were surprised to see her on their front step one day was an understatement, as was to say that they were angry. After about an hour of reprimands, the two women finally broke down in tears and began to hug their friend endlessly. When Krista asked about Megan they fell silent. While she did return to the home they shared, she did not stay long, spending two days in utter silence before taking off unannounced on the third. Krista could not help but feel slightly guilty, though she did not know why.

Things were awkward between her and Webster since their last confrontation in Haguenau. The most either got from each other these days were strange looks and faulty smiles. When it came to Guarnere, the wound was slowly healing. She did not think about him as often and when she did, it did not hurt as much. She only hoped he would not fade into oblivion like her memories of Pierre had.

Pierre. That _was_ a new thought. It had been what, seven months since he passed? A woman would still be grieving her husband at this stage, not that they had been that close but they certainly acted like a couple. Of course, she was not exactly acting under normal circumstances. Most days she believed that normalcy was a thing that would never return in her life. It was just going to be one bad turn after another. She began to wonder how things could have been if they had not been caught that day in Holland, if they had been a little more careful…

Krista stepped away from the window quickly, swearing to herself. Enough was enough. There would be no more what ifs and fantasies. She had to deal with the cards that had been dealt to her. Things had been depressing enough as it was without her thinking of happier tales that may have occurred if she had gone left instead of right. That road had nearly driven her to insanity before, she was not about to go down it again.

She walked out of the room and the house without a second thought, Trigger following a step behind, having never left her side since she returned. Krista no longer worked as a nurse, having too many memories to linger in the hospital long. She had had enough of pretending to be something she was not. While her skills had increased over time, she was nowhere near being a skilled person that others should trust their lives with. The fact that she got away with anything was mostly due to desperation and confusion but now that things had calmed and the end seemed so near, Krista took this as the time to retire.

The streets were crowed, busier than usual save for that night back in December but she knew this was nothing like that. Replacements had been shipping in for days now. The men had been so busy with their training that Krista had hardly gotten a chance to be with any of them since they returned to Mourmelon. It was strange that now when the war was coming to an end she could not get a word in. Things were backward in this world, but she should have realized that already.

Krista had been looking at some artwork that had been recently brought in by one of the trucks when they found her. Trigger had noticed them first, running over in hopes of getting some kind of treat. It was Luz, Liebgott and Malarkey. Krista was instantly suspicious. They were planning something, it was pitifully obvious.

"What do you want?" she asked, folding her arms as they approached. Trigger had found something interesting in Liebgott's pocket and pawed at it insistently until the translator gave it up to him.

"Sheesh, so much for warm welcomes." Luz commented, flicking the remainder of his cigarette into the street. Krista did not budge. "Yeah, alright, uh…Malark?"

The red head seemed surprised when Luz shoved him into the spotlight, rolling his eyes when Luz pointed out his higher rank. "Well, we got some news today. Turns out we're heading out of town in a couple hours. Everyone's loading up their gear as we speak."

"Where are you going?"

Malarkey looked at his two companions, smiling, before replying. "Germany."

Krista's arms dropped to her sides and her mouth to the ground. Despite everything, she had missed her home more than anything. She missed the people, the ability to fit in, the food, the sights, everything. Now the men were about to go there but all they would see was a tainted version of her home. Oh, if she could convince them otherwise! She may have been hated by some there but in the end, most knew nothing of the goings on of the government. They were good people.

Luz elbowed Malarkey. "Told you she'd like it."

Liebgott, who was now kneeling next to Trigger scratching his ear, looked up at her. "Ready to go home, Krista?"

Perhaps some other time the news of this would have caused her to faint but nothing seemed to have that effect on her anymore. "But, how can I?"

"This is where we come in." Malarkey replied.

Krista looked at each of them several times before stopping at Liebgott. "_If you make me do something stupid, so help me, I'll make sure all the German women know about you three."_

Luz did not turn away from her, noting the change in disposition. "Jesus, Lieb, what'd she say?"

Liebgott coughed in response. "Look, it ain't that bad Krista…well…it could be worse."

The four weaved around the various vehicles and personnel, Krista still debating if she ought to regret following them. They approached a truck that had a few familiar faces, the one she assumed would have something to do with her. One of the occupants was Bull who stood up as the neared the back of the vehicle.

"Hello there, Krista." Even his voice sounded suspicious.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, looking up at him, her neck tilted at a bad angle. The man was tall enough as it was, then he had to stand on the truck.

"Sneak you across the border like contraband." Krista turned to the other three, a priceless look on her face.

Malarkey scratched his head. "Well, we couldn't exactly get permission. Major Winters was busy and…"

"No one had the balls to ask Captain Speirs." Luz added. He turned to Bull. "Can I have the jacket?" Krista watched Bull grab what looked like one of the jackets that each of the men wore, rank and everything. He tossed it to Luz who held it up to her. "Guess it'll still be baggy but better than nothing. Put it on."

Krista grabbed the jacket. "Whose is it?"

Liebgott raised his hand, looking at the ground. "Mine."

Luz smiled. "Scrawniest guy in the company. Course, he swims in his uniform too." After Krista had put on the jacket, the bottom of it past well past her hips and her hands long lost in the sleeves, Luz handed her helmet. "Put this on too." Krista obeyed but not before giving Luz a look. The helmet was big as well, covering up most of her view of the world.

"She looks ridiculous." She heard Malarkey comment. Krista pushed up the helmet until it sat above her forehead on the verge of falling off.

"Well, we need to disguise her somehow." Liebgott replied. "Last thing we need is Colonel Sink driving by and seeing a woman in the truck."

"What about the dress?" Krista asked, pointing out an obvious flaw. Her blue dress hardly seemed to blend in with the other uniforms.

Luz shrugged. "Never said it was perfect." Inside the truck, Bull kneeled down, offering his hand to Krista. Placing one in each of his, she felt herself lifted onto the thing, nearly squealing at one point. She saw Bull as a man that could hold her hanging off the truck for some time without growing tired and he might have done it if they did not need to hide her. She sat down on the bed, hiding under blankets as she was instructed to do.

"You won't be there for long. Just wait until we get out of town." She heard Malarkey say as he climbed on board. Several more men followed without incident but Krista was nervous under the blanket, unable to see. Then it happened. She shouted in pain as someone stepped on her arm.

"_You couldn't put me on here last, you idiots!"_

Bull chuckled. "That didn't sound good."

Nothing happened for a while. The men chatted quietly as they waited to leave, making crude jokes that Krista was certain were directed toward her. She could not wait to get back to Germany. The men would get what they deserved then. Then it fell silent. It stayed that way for so long that Krista began to get worried. Was she going to be discovered already? She hoped the men would not get in too much trouble for her sake.

"Good afternoon, sir." Luz said finally. Krista gulped, fairly certain that all the men could hear her. There was only one man that could make them act this way: Captain Speirs. Yes, he had become tolerant of her presence but he hardly seemed like the man that would just let her go with them on a whim, risking his position and others.

Speirs said nothing but she assumed he nodded. Maybe she was being paranoid but she could feel his eyes on her. Her breathing stopped for a moment as she closed her eyes and prayed that he would just leave. Apparently God thought no was the appropriate answer because soon after she felt the blanket lifting off her. She looked up at Speirs, his look calm and cool as usual. There was no telling when he was mad, or happy for that matter. Krista smiled a moment, even mumbling a 'hello.'

"I think you boys are taking your looting a little too far." He said, turning back to the men. "Don't let me see it again." Speirs then replaced the blanket over Krista as though nothing had happened. She lifted it back up for a moment, her look matching that of the others: complete and utter surprise, but the company commander was about to do them one better.

Trigger was sitting by the truck, whining uncontrollably, not wanting to be left behind once more, but the men and Krista had agreed that it was the best choice. It was risky enough taking her with. Speirs looked at the German shepherd for a moment before grabbing a nearby crate and placing it next to the truck. With that, Trigger was able to climb onto the truck and join the group, immediately crawling on top of Krista and staying there.

"That did not just happen." A new voice said. It sounded like Christensen.

"The Germans are more predictable." Luz added. There were several more murmurs but Krista hardly caught them as she replaced the blanket over her head. She had come to understand many things in this war. Most men she came by these days fell into one of several categories she kept listed in her head. Speirs, on the other hand, had his own. If he had been with them since the first day they found her, Krista believed she would be no closer to finding out what made him tick than she was now.

"Hey, is there any room in here?" A young voice asked. "Most of the trucks are filled up and I…hey, a German shepherd. Is it coming with us?" Krista could hear the men's heads shaking and she tried not to laugh as the boy climbed onboard, unaware of her presence.

. . .

Parts of her body had begun to go numb by the time they left. The movement of the truck had Krista banging against boots, railings and equipment. The men tried to help but they were more of a hurt than anything. Once they got on the main road, things calmed a bit, conversations started up, someone was even singing in a nearby vehicle. After a few minutes of happily enjoying the sounds, Krista began to tug on someone's pant leg, not exactly sure whose it was.

"Whoa! What is that?!" shouted a young voice. Krista winced. It was the replacement.

"Calm down, O'Keefe. She don't bite."

"Usually." Liebgott added in. Krista kicked in his direction. "Alright, I lied! I lied!"

"She?" Krista pulled the blanket off and sat up, looking around at the other passengers. She saw Roe and Garcia, along with a few other familiar faces until she landed on a stunned one, mouth in the shape of an O. This, she assumed, was O'Keefe.

"Sorry about that, Krista." Bull said, offering his hand, helping her up onto the bench. She brought the blanket with her, covering up the blue of her dress so for a moment when she looked around, she felt like one of the men, though only she and O'Keefe still had helmets on. Passersby would think she was a replacement. The irony made her smile. "Guess I should have moved him away from you."

Krista shrugged, turning back to O'Keefe, offering her hand. "Sabine Krista Nimholtz, German."

O'Keefe's hand moved up and down maybe once. "Ger…man?" He looked around at the others waiting for the punchline. "Why is she here?"

Luz smiled. "Major Winters has a thing for foreign girls."

Krista shot him another look. "Be nice. He is lying." She thought a moment, mumbling in German shortly after.

Across the way, Liebgott began to crack up, leaving the others in confusion until his laughter subsided. "She said she's our bodyguard." There was more laughter. Christensen was the first to break it.

"Company mascot is more like it."

O'Keefe did not share in any of the laughter. He only looked more confused. "So…what do you do?" The truck fell silent a moment while Krista truly thought about what she did. Sure, she had been their nurse for sometime but what else was there? Roe was a medic but he was also a paratrooper and a translator. There must have been something else about her.

"I…keep them alive." For O'Keefe, he could not understand how what she said was any different than bodyguard but he saw that the others nodded in agreement. They knew something that he did not. He never felt so left out as he did then.

. . .

Conversations kept up for a couple hours, mostly stories to spook O'Keefe or answers to his ridiculous questions. Some were of back home but they did not want to venture there just yet. There were still Germans that would resist them; home was still a long ways off. Eventually the long ride became too much for the men, their fascination at the enemy's country diminishing. Most began nodding off, even Krista who had ditched the helmet long ago found her eyelids unable to stay open as she leaned against Bull's shoulder.

Eventually the familiar sounds of old brakes returned but the men did not move until the engines were killed. They began to sit up then, glancing around lazily. The sun had begun to set, casting long shadows on the town. It looked no different than other places they had been to but at the same time it was vastly different. This was Germany. They were the invaders now.

Krista stepped down from the truck, followed by Trigger who sniffed at the air curiously.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Erm…" Malarkey searched his memory. "Stür…zel…berg." Krista laughed at his butchering of the name, still understanding what he meant.

Luz poked her. "Have you been here?"

"Goddamit, Luz!" Liebgott shouted before she could reply. "So help me if you ask her if she been to a German town one more time, I'll make sure you don't see the next one." There was laughter all around, attracting the attention of a few others. Perconte appeared on one end of the group, while Welsh and Lipton approached the other. The men came to attention, though few were able to hold back the smiles, while Christensen rendered a salute. Krista, feeling almost obligated by the jacket she wore, offered her own salute, about as terrible as Malarkey's pronunciation of the town name. Welsh doubled over laughing, waving his hand as he caught his breath.

"I'm not gonna ask." He said, walking off.

Lipton smiled and nodded. "Nice to have you with us, Corporal." As soon as the officers left, the men began to laugh once again, looking at Krista as though they could not believe what she just pulled.

"Maybe we should take the jacket back." Luz offered but Krista shook her head. "What, you want to go around smelling like Liebgott?"

"I'll take that as a compliment." The owner added.

"Do you have to walk around in it though?" Christensen asked, looking a little worried.

Perconte stepped forward. "I don't think anyone cares. Already saw a couple fräuleins walking around in them."

Krista smiled then, stepping away from the group. "Find me somewhere to sleep!"

. . .

She had been wandering around for a few hours now, dusk quickly fading into the horizon. While on her little adventure, one of the men had found her, handing her a poorly transcribed note on directions to a family that was willing to take her and Trigger in for the time being. It was their house she was about to head to when a voice caught her attention. Perhaps before the war, she would have ignored a voice such as this one, knowing she was better off but it had been so long since she had heard another German speak to her in a way that was not completely insulting that she could not help herself.

"_You are the girl, are you not?"_ A woman asked, approaching her from the other side of the street. Krista tilted her head out of curiosity, looking around quickly to see if there was anyone else. There was not and so she turned back, confused. Trigger growled quietly but she ignored him for the time being. _"The one that came with the Americans?"_

Krista considered her options before answering. _"Yes."_

The woman smiled, something off about the way she did so, something felt sinister about her. She offered her hand. _"My name is Tamani."_

For a moment, Krista wondered if taking the woman's hand would be making some kind of pact with the devil but she quickly brushed the thought aside. Now she was just being absurd. She shook Tamani's hand, put off once again by how cold it was. _"Krista."_

Tamani gave Liebgott's jacket a good onceover before she continued. _"I see you have their uniform. I had always wanted to get myself one as well. Do they give those out or do you have to be willing to trade?" _The way this woman spoke and how she worded her sentences sent chills up Krista's spine. She did not know what this woman was up to but she had ideas, none of them good, none of them needing to involve the men, her men.

"_I do not what they would do. They loaned me this jacket earlier today and I have yet to give it back."_ Krista began to walk away at this point, not enjoying her company in the least bit but Tamani followed.

"_Is it truly as simple as that? Tell me, there must be more. You are German. Help a comrade. How could you possibly have stayed with them without giving a piece of you in return?" _

Krista stopped in place, Tamani nearly running into her, and whirled around. _"Don't you dare utter those words! I'm not a slut like you! If you wish to go down that path, chose one of them and leave me alone!" _She stomped off then, Trigger standing in place a moment longer to make certain that the woman would not follow.

"_Then I choose him."_ The volume of her voice tugged at Krista's curiosity. She had faith that most of the men would not have done something with this woman, but even if they did, she was a good moment one night, nothing more than that. Something like her could not become what Krista had achieved. Still, she did wish to know what poor soul the woman had chosen to inflict her poison upon so she turned, and soon wished she had not.

Webster had stumbled upon the street, probably looking for her though she did not know the reason. Tamani was eying him in a way that disgusted and angered her. She could have left them, Webster more than capable of taking care of himself, not one for people like this, unwilling for such acts even if her existence had not been among them, but something inside burned her. Krista did not want that woman near her, did not want to know what thoughts traveled through her mind about him. She wished to hurt the woman then but stopped herself. She was above that.

"_No!"_ Krista shouted, running up to Tamani. _"He is not like that and I won't let you try to convince him otherwise."_

The woman's smile returned. She could see through Krista. _"Is he your ticket to America?"_

Krista could not help it. This woman knew nothing it was true, but she was under so much pressure that it did not matter anyway. After everything she had went through with these men, especially Webster, Tamani would say that she was only with them to get to America. That was all they were to her, some cheap ride across the ocean to a life supposedly better than the one she had been leading. After everything, all of the feelings, the heartbreak, the love, it was too much for her.

She almost thought it was funny that the only people she had ever punched were Germans. Maybe one day she would laugh at the fact that her first day home, she was beating civilians and yelling at them with the most vulgar language. That day was not today, and nothing about it was hilarious in the least, though the sight of blood dripping from Tamani's nose entertained her. Trigger was barking just behind her, as though encouraging her to do more. Perhaps she would have if Webster had not run over and pulled her away from the woman. He had said something but she could not hear it above Tamani's shouts, hurling insults that meant nothing to her. Krista wished she knew what it was like, give her the last three years in five minutes.

His voice finally came through. "Krista, what are you doing?"

"Nothing!" she shouted, somehow breaking free from his grasp, walking into the nearby alley. "Trigger, come!" The shepherd obeyed happily after barking menacingly one last time at Tamani. He practically bounced into step behind her.

"That didn't look like nothing!" He shouted after her, longer strides catching up almost instantly. Webster grabbed her arm, but when she shook away from him, he placed both hands on her, holding her in place by the shoulders. "One second I see you walking away, the next you are punching a woman. What is going on?"

Krista bit her lip, keeping herself from saying anything too terrible too fast. She looked at Webster, eyes falling upon his gray ones filled with concern and that look that had made things so difficult for her before. It triggered something in her, thoughts of Tamani looking at him this close seeping into her mind. She did the only thing that made sense to her at the time: she kissed him.

At first Webster was surprised, he even tried to back up but then gave in, holding her as he did the first time, gently, lovingly. He breathed into her, made her feel warm, wanted. She felt what he did, how he had pined for her those many weeks, how he had worried for her safety when the Germans attacked and how happy he was to find her intact. The pain was there as well, the pain from her confession to him but every second they were together it wore down, faded into memory. Then the moment ended, realization dawned on Webster.

"Wait," he said, backing up slightly. He watched her for a moment, wondering what could have possessed her before desire took over and he met her again. This kiss was more passionate but also shorter as his conscious finally struggled to victory.

"Stop, stop." Webster pulled away again, making sure there was plenty of space between the two. He took a few breaths before continuing. "What is the matter with you? One second you act like you hate me the next you're making out with me in an alleyway. It makes no sense!"

Krista was silent a moment. He had a point. How she must have confused him. Things were bad enough and then she had to go and do that. She sighed. _"She spoke of you in a disgusting way, called you my ticket to America."_

"Okay, so that's why you hit her, but why did you…" A smile grew on his face, bring Krista the opposite effect. "You were jealous, weren't you?"

Her mouth dropped and only mumbled syllables made their way out. Webster began to laugh then, the first comforting emotion he had portrayed since they had been reunited, but she did not enjoy it as much as she would have liked to.

"_I'm happy you find this so entertaining." _She said, crossing her arms. Webster gave it a moment longer before he grew serious again, the smile fading. He pulled her forward then, noting how easily she came to him, wrapping her in his arms; he looked deeply into her eyes this time, searching for answers to his many questions but finding nothing. She had learned to hide things.

"Is there hope for us?" he asked, moving a stray hair from her face.

Krista looked down. "I do not know. Today is not it." He nodded. Today was not it. That simple sentence carried a lot with it, sinking his heart further with its burden. Krista felt it. She placed her head on his chest, unsure of what else to do. His head rested on hers and they sat there for a long while, wondering how easy this felt and why it could not add to more.

Webster sighed. "Well, I actually came looking for you for a reason. I figured you were lost. Those directions aren't the best." She could feel his head motion to the left. "The house you're staying at is that way." Krista nodded. They began to walk down the alleyway, an ever oblivious Trigger following behind them. As they walked, Krista slowly slipped her hand into his, giving it a squeeze every now and then. She was still there for him, she just needed time to think, and to heal.

* * *

I have to say this…I adore O'Keefe. Am I alone there or does anyone else love him as much as I do?

Happy Easter!


	24. What Her Father Knew

Holy crap, been gone too long! I just came back from vacation and had every intention of updating this before I left but I was hit with the most horrible case of writer's block on all of my stories. I've only recently reclaimed my creativity. My apologies.

Tis another chapter with a bunch of little oneshots I guess you could say. The next one guarantees to be much longer though. You'll see why shortly.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Four: What Her Father Knew**

**March 1945**

**Stürzelberg, Germany**

Krista sat on her bed, watching the sleeping girl on the other side of the room. Her name was Aarika, a sixteen year old ball of energy that could not stop speaking about everything that had happened. She had listened, wide-eyed, as Krista explained pieces of her story, making sure to edit out the things that would disturb her most, which happened to be a lot. Then for about half an hour, Aarika sang her praises when word came through of a woman traveling with the Americans that had beaten up Tamani, a woman most had come to know as the town slut. She had preyed on the last group of Americans to drop by and had been hoping her luck was better this time around. Of course, Krista had changed that, giving her an eye blacker than the night and a nose slightly more crooked than usual.

Things had been fairly simple in the town. Men wandered about most days, doing what they pleased unless they had guard duty. Many had taking to looting the local hotspots, something she did not approve of but could understand. She tried to turn the other way while they did so, pretending that if she did not see it, nothing wrong had been done, though she could not help but inwardly chastise Speirs. Word was out that the company commander was the worst of all the looters, something she believed an officer should never stoop down to.

Not everything had been disheartening in her stay though, such as the morning Nixon had gathered the men around to talk about current events. Most of the news was well over her head but she listened anyway, about as fascinated as Aarika was at her stories. The men did not seem to share her sentiment as she witnessed the beginnings of a poker game as well as some heads nodding with sleep and certainly Heffron could not have been paying attention since she had draped herself over him, wrapping her arms around his neck like some lovesick girl. This had caused quite an uproar, the others jealous that they had not been chosen but they quieted down, eventually. They all had quite a laugh at the rendition of a musical called Oklahoma and an even larger one when the men urged Krista to go up and read some of the events, her English receiving a standing ovation at the end, to which she curtsied.

She smiled at those lovely thoughts but it quickly faded as she witnessed a man walking down the street. It was the dead of night, none were to be out unless they were patrolling the town. Krista watched as the figure stopped in front of the pharmacy across the street. They stared at the window a moment before smashing it with an object lying idly on the sidewalk.

Krista did not know what compelled her then but as soon as she heard the sound of the glass smashing, she bolted from the room, unconcerned with how loud she might be as she ran through the hallways and down the steps. Her conscience did not yell at her about how the man might be dangerous, drunk even which had now become a common occurrence. It simply egged her on. Chances were she did not know the man but the thought that she might worried her.

It was raining, down pouring actually. Krista had nothing but a light dress to feebly keep her warm but it was not the cold that bothered her as she stepped onto the street. The figure had proceeded to exit the building, pace unchanged as the Military Police pulled up in their vehicles. The men that jumped out saluted him as he passed. Had they only come moments before, they would have been arresting the man but now they could not even suspect him. He was an officer and they did no wrong.

Determined to somehow make it right, Krista went after the man, only running when she was well past the vehicles for fear she might be accused of the crime. Not three steps into the rain, her hair became horribly soaked, sticking to her in the most inconvenient of ways, as well as her dress. For a moment she was thankful Guarnere was not there. The comments he would have come up with.

The figure walked just as slow as before, unhindered by the onslaught of rain. He did not seem to notice her presence either until she had grabbed him by the shoulder, turning the man around so she could get a good look at his face.

"Lewis!" she shouted, nearly falling back from surprise. Krista stared at him for a moment, confirming that it was truly him. "What are you doing?"

He shrugged, "Taking a walk." Krista glared at him now. More disturbing than his execution of the crime was the fact that she saw no remorse within him, that he spoke as though it were just a walk. This was not the man she knew.

"Through the apotheke," Krista added, not knowing the exact English equivalent to the word. She crossed her arms, waiting for a response, the coolness of the rain slowly getting to her. It was now she noticed her breath had taken shape.

Nixon sighed, moving a hand through his wet hair. "Yeah, through the…whatever the hell you said it was." He paused a moment, looking away. She hoped to now find the emotion she was looking more but received the exact opposite. "And what difference does it make if I did? I don't see you stopping any of the other guys from taking their share."

"They do not break windows! They do not steal like that!" Krista yelled, gesturing in the direction of the building. "You are an officer! You know better!"

"Captain Speirs is an officer too!" Nixon countered, voice growing louder with each syllable. "I see him come out of a building with truckloads of stuff, yet I do one thing and I'm the criminal?"

Krista knew where he was going but she would not let him get away with it. "I do not know Speirs, I know you. This is not you!"

Nixon snorted, turning away. "Times change people, Krista, you should be the one to understand that."

"Change to what? A thief? A criminal?"

"You don't know what I've seen!" Nixon's voice could have challenged the thunder. He came close to her, their faces almost touching, the anger and hurt in his eyes evident. "You don't know what it's like."

Krista paused a moment, waiting for Nixon to realize the mistake he made. "I have seen death! I have been hurt! I do nothing like you did!" She was practically screaming at this point, her anger at everything culminating in this argument.

Nixon nodded, seeming to calm down a bit. When he spoke, his voice was low, impassive. "You're right. You cozy up to other soldiers in order to make yourself feel better." It was a low blow. He regretted the words as soon as they came out but he did not get the chance to apologize before she slapped him. His jaw went numb a moment and then tingled, the pain slowly making its way through. Nixon knew he deserved it, almost wished she would do it again.

He looked at her, rain soaked face making it difficult to tell if she was crying or not. She began to back up, shaking her head. Though he knew it was too late, Nixon reached out for her. "Krista, I-˝

"No." That was all she needed to say as she walked back up the street, arms wrapping around her body to stop the sudden cold assault upon it. One word was enough to keep Lewis Nixon in place for some time, thinking about everything he had done.

. . .

Krista stayed in bed the next day, thinking over things and saving another poor soul from her next bout with anger. She had never thought of herself as a burden, though she probably had her moments. The men had needed her as much as she needed them but with two accusations within the same week, it caused her to rethink how the men looked at her.

Grabbing her pillow, Krista buried her face in it and screamed.

Then there was a knock at the door.

She waited a few moments for movement but heard nothing until the knock came again. Apparently she was the only one home. Sighing, she stood and left the room, figuring she might as well answer it and leave a message for the family when they came back. Trigger looked lazily in her direction before going back to sleep.

It occurred to her right before she opened the door that the visitor might be for her. She had hardly thought of what she looked like in a mirror and still did not care much now. She almost hoped it was Nixon so she could slam the door shut on him but things never did go her way. She opened the door to find Webster smiling at her.

Now she wished she knew what it looked like. From what she could recall, it had tendencies of sticking up in strange directions.

"Hello," he said almost too cheerfully. Either he did not notice or he was being nice. There was no such thing as miracles in her life. When she did not respond, Webster coughed, continuing. "Just thought I'd let you know we're heading out in a couple hours. Going to some town called Buchloe."

Krista nodded, "Okay."

Webster waited a moment, expecting more. "You also have permission to go so you won't have to hide under a blanket this time. From what I heard, it wasn't the most pleasant of experiences." Krista merely nodded, remaining silent. The awkwardness was heavier than before. "Are you alright?"

"Yes…yes I am fine." It suddenly occurred to her then that she only responded like that when something was the exact opposite. She wondered if he noticed. Apparently he did for he gave her a look. "I had a bad night."

Webster nodded, unsure if he should venture any further into the subject. Clearly a conversation was the last thing she was interesting in at the moment, so he took the next silent moment as a goodbye and stepped back down onto the street. Now Krista felt bad. She bit her lip, thinking of something to say.

"See you on the truck!" She shouted after him. Webster turned around then and nodded with a smile.

After she closed the door, Krista looked at the mirror nearby. Just as she thought. Her hair stuck out in a strange curve on the one side, making it look like a child's adaptation of a mountain. Attempting to straighten it out, Krista groaned and hit her head against the wall, repeatedly.

It was then that she heard footsteps.

Without taking her forehead off the wall, Krista turned to her left, seeing Aarika stand in the kitchen doorway.

She sighed. _"Why did you not answer the door?"_ It certainly would have spared her the embarrassment.

Aarika shrugged. _"I'm not allowed to when my parents aren't home."_

"_Of course."_ Krista stood upright then, heading for the stairs. She might as well start to get ready. As she began to climb up, Aarika called out to her.

"_Who was it?"_

"_A soldier."_

"_Is he your boyfriend?"_ It was a simple question that most teenage girls would come to the conclusion of. She should have simply said no and continued her trek to the second floor but the sentence through her off. Krista stopped in place, thinking for a moment.

"_I don't know."_ It was all that she could come up with, all the further she would go on the subject for the time being.

. . .

Two hours later Krista found herself wandering down a street that to her looked no different than Mourmelon: a cobblestone street, cute little houses and trucks filled to the brim with soldiers on every end of it. Organized chaos had returned once more as the men got ready to head to the next stop on their tour of Germany. With Trigger at her side and Liebgott's jacket on her shoulders, Krista strode up to one of the trucks and quickly climbed on board. If the men wanted to sit with her, they could find her.

It did not take long for the curious men of Easy Company to locate her. Actually, it was a rather funny thing to watch. They all seemed to be searching for her with some form of urgency, as though they were racing to get a seat next to her. True to his nature, Luz was able to find her first, sliding in comfortably next to her. Others like Garcia, O'Keefe, Perconte and Liebgott eventually found their way over, leaving Webster with a seat at the very end when he finally arrived. Krista shrugged in his direction and smiled.

"So, no blanket trick this time?" Luz asked, a devilish grin on his face.

"You would like that." Krista replied, crossing her arms.

Luz shrugged. "Can you blame me?"

Krista opened her mouth to say something when shouting caught the attention of everyone. She turned around to see a rather flustered Nixon looked at the helmet he had just thrown at the jeep, having yelled something about his dog. Despite her anger toward him, her brows knitted with worry. Something was going on with him. She only wished he was not so proud to divulge.

He looked in her direction, causing the anger to flare up again. Throwing a glare in his direction, Krista quickly turned back to the occupants in the truck, hoping the fumes were not as obvious as they ought to be. The men hardly noticed, falling into their own conversations without even turning to Krista. She was thankful for that. It gave her time to cool down.

A few more minutes passed by before the familiar rev of the trucks could be heard. There was also something extra in the air, a lone voice which was quickly joined by a few more. Soon enough it seemed like all the men around were singing this song, one that sounded rather morbid to her but still entertaining, if only by the fact that the men appeared to be enjoying themselves.

_He was just a rookie trooper and he surely shook with fright.  
He checked off his equipment and made sure his pack was tight.  
He had to sit and listen to those awful engines roar.  
You ain't gonna jump no more._

_Gory, gory, what a hell of way to die.  
Gory, gory, what a hell of way to die.  
Gory, gory, what a hell of way to die.  
He ain't gonna jump no more._

_"Is everybody happy?" cried the sergeant looking up.  
Our hero feebly answered, "Yes", and then they stood him up.  
He jumped into the icy blast, his static line unhooked.  
And he ain't gonna jump no more._

The song continued like that well into their ride and eventually Krista was even able to mumble to the chorus, which she found more enjoyable with every time she said it. By the end they were all laughing like little children, having more fun than it seemed they ever had. Germany was certainly looking better than the men had imagined, enemy territory or not.

As before, they quieted down as the journey began to stretch to unbelievable lengths. The trucks were moving at a 'snail's pace' according to the men and Krista could not have agreed more. Marching felt like it would have gone faster.

They soon approached a rather large roadway: the Autobahn. Krista had been on it once with her father and brother. She had never figured out what was so interesting about it. The thing was just another road to her and at the time it had hardly been as crowded as it was now. Not only were there hundreds of army vehicles traveling along it but also thousands of surrendered German soldiers marching in the opposite direction. Each took a moment to gape at the sight before even that became dull.

Krista watched as German officers sat on a wagon being pulled by horses while their soldiers walked along. She frowned, imagining her father walking side by side with the privates, head held high. Then again, he would not even have been with them but it was a nice thought nonetheless. She was not the only one who had noticed.

Webster, looking rather furious at the moment, stood up, leaning in their direction. "Hey, you! That's right, you stupid Kraut bastards! That's right! Say hello to Ford, and General fuckin' Motors! You stupid fascist pigs! Look at you! You have horses! What were you thinking?" Krista watched slightly horrified as he sat down, only to once again stand, rant not over. "Dragging our asses half way around the world, interrupting our lives... For what, you ignorant, servile scum! What the fuck are we doing here?"

For a final time Webster sat down, seemingly finished. The truck was silent now. Men looked back and forth between him and Krista, wondering if they should say something, if someone needed to apologize. Krista was not sure how to feel, was not certain if she had any part in that speech he had just given.

Webster looked over at her and something clicked. She saw the regret fill his eyes. He sighed and looked down at his feet, unwilling to face her again. He expected her to be angry but she was not now that she knew. She understood.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw another carriage headed their way. Smiling, she stood up this time, leaning so far out of the truck Luz thought he might have to hold onto her.

"_Hello!" _She shouted to the officers nearby, her voice overly cheerful and annoying. _"How are you this day?"_

The most pretentious looking officer chose to answer, much to her delight. _"I am honorable which is something you could never understand, you filthy American whore."_

Liebgott, who had been listening in rather curiously, now stood up, ready to hop off the truck and strangle the man that spoke, shouting curses in English at the moment. Krista put her hand up, stopping him and smiling. She rather liked the comment. Webster looked up again, a similar anger in his eyes but he remained seated.

"_Honorable enough to plop you lazy behind on a carriage while your men walk? My father would never do such a thing!" _She kept the smile, increasing the sting of her insults. His face seemed to turn a new shade of red as he stood.

"_And who would your father be!" _He shouted as the wagon began to move out of reach.

Her smile was larger than it had ever been. _"General Wilhelm Nimholtz, military advisor and attempted assassin of our Führer Adolf Hitler!" _The look on the man's face was even more entertaining than before. Krista sat down, triumphant, listening to the lovely insults hurled in her direction, each one making her giddier. After Liebgott's rough translation of the conversation, the men were smiling as well, congratulating her on an insult well done. Webster gave her a feeble smile, feeling as though he had been forgiven though he remained silent for the rest of the trip.

. . .

Night had fallen when they arrived in the small town of Buchloe. Krista had not slept too well and was looking forward to a bed, though she had no idea how they were going to come across one at this hour. Hopping out of the truck, she began to wander around with Trigger, taking in the city, wondering if she had been there before Luz asked her again.

Men started piling into buildings, shouting mixed sentences of English and German. Krista sat outside one, curiously glancing up at its exterior, searching the windows for any hints of what was happening. She was still in that spot when people began to emerge from the building. Instead of the men coming out, it was the inhabitants, all looking shaken up and frustrated. Many mumbled things as their eyes landed on her, some very similar to what she had heard earlier in the day. She did not take pleasure from them now, was actually more hurt than she wanted to be.

Whore. Slut. Traitor. Krista supposed she would look like this to them. She was just another woman taking advantage of the freedom and comforts the Americans offered, giving them her body in return. It was a thought that made her feel low and disgusted. She had hoped for a better welcome home.

Leaning against the building, Krista watched the stars overhead, humming a tune to cheer herself up. It was not working but she thought to give it time. Another body emerged, stopping next to her. She glanced over. Lipton.

"Good, you're just the person I needed to talk to." Lipton said, hardly noticing her distracted state. "We have a room in here for you. It's not much but I'm sure you're too humble even for this one." She smiled but it faded quickly, her eyes on the stars again. "What is it?"

"I do not think I should go in."

Even though she did not face him, Krista could see the confused look on his face. "Why would you…is it about the men? They don't mind. They'd almost insist."

Krista shook her head and turned to Lipton. "No. It is not them." She motioned to a group of civilians exiting a nearby house. "They see me and they hate me."

Lipton was silent a moment, thinking things over. He nodded in understanding. "You know, it doesn't matter what they think. You know how important you are to this company and you also know that everything they think about you is wrong."

She was silent a while, though she nodded slowly. "Yes, I know but…what happens when you leave?" It was something completely out of the blue, something even she had not acknowledged before. All of this with the men was great and all, but eventually they would be able to return home and she would be nothing but a distant memory. This thought did not bother her as much as the fact of what she would do after they were gone. She would truly have no one then; she supposed that this whole affair or whatever it was that she was having with Webster would not be worth it in the end.

Lipton sighed. "I don't know." They looked at each other for a long time, thoughts blank, giving up on contemplating everything thrown at them for the time being. With a hint of a smile, Krista stood straight, slipping out of Liebgott's jacket and handing it to Lipton.

"Give this to Joe?"

Lipton nodded, watching her enter the building. "Up the stairs, first door on the left." He saw her nod slightly as she climbed the stairs, wishing he could do more to help; he had realized something when she spoke. While they did appreciate her, it seemed that they had been using her as well. She gave them good times and helped them during the bad but none of them stopped to consider what they were doing. She was German; she could never come with them. Were they just going to rip her apart again?

. . .

The morning dawned bright in her room. Krista blinked rapidly at the light, cursing at it in German. She had not realized that the curtains were open when she walked in the night before. Then again, the last thing she remembered was shutting the door and collapsing on the bed. There was no turning over any covers, she was not even sure if her head was on the pillow or not.

She had slept surprisingly well despite the thoughts on her mind. Of course, there was always something terrible for her to think about so why not? The fact was she did not want to think about this situation. This was something that she would drag out until it looked her in the face.

Sliding off the bed, Krista observed the room she had been given. It looked like a small apartment completely with a kitchen and little dining area. There were a couple of other rooms branched out from the one she stood in. It appeared that more people than the apartment was meant for were staying there, most likely family from bigger cities seeking shelter from the frequent bombing. Now she felt even worse. All of those people out of the warmth and comfort for her. It hardly seemed fair.

Krista moved to the window. The men below were already well into their activities whether it was moving things around, mapping something out or smoking with a couple of buddies. Things had definitely become more relaxed.

Fixing her hair quickly, Krista headed outside, not wishing to stay in the place any longer than she needed to. Trigger stayed behind, having become lazy in these last few weeks. He was enjoying the quiet as much as everyone else.

Heffron greeted Krista with a smile, ushering her into the small group with Malarkey and Liebgott as they all smoked in a circle. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. We were all wondering when you'd wake up."

She looked at all of them with their strange smiles and asked the only obvious question. "What time is it?"

"Half past ten," Malarkey answered. "You were really out of it." Krista nodded slowly. She supposed her body was trying to catch up on all of those precious hours of sleep she had lost over the last few years. The nights spent up relocating or 'working,' the dreamless slumbers disturbed by the bombing in the distance, the sleep denied by the paranoia of things to come. None of that was present anymore. She was free to relax, or so she hoped.

As the minutes passed, they all fell into conversation about simple things. Words were no longer spoken of how they hated the Germans or of what they were going to do next. Instead it was of the women in town (which Krista ignored to the best of her abilities) and attempting to convince Heffron of the move Speirs pulled back in Mourmelon. They still had not managed to do it when an out of breath Perconte came running up to them.

"Have you guys seen any officers?" He asked, bumping into Liebgott as he attempted to stop. The group shook their heads in unison causing Perconte to groan and run off again in search.

"That was weird." Liebgott commented, turning his attention back to the previous conversation. "Listen, Babe, Krista says it's true. If you can't believe us, believe her."

"Krista has been in her fair share of tricks. I'd be more convinced if you told me Hitler was Santa Claus."

The topic of the conversation continued to watch Perconte, concerned. "Is everything okay?"

Liebgott nodded. "Some replacement probably just shot his foot."

"Wouldn't be the first time." Malarkey mumbled as he fidgeted with his lighter. "Dead already? C'mon, I just got this thing."

While the others seemed perfectly relaxed about the entire situation, Krista could not escape the sinking feeling in her stomach. She followed Perconte in his desperate search until he stumbled upon Winters, nearly falling over as he spoke to the man. It was probably none of her business but that had not stopped her before. Ignoring the questions being thrown after her, Krista ran over to Winters and Perconte, stopping as the latter said, "I don't know."

Winters glanced at Krista quickly, apparently used to her random appearances. "Can you describe it?"

Perconte shook his head slightly, lost in thought, not really wanting to remember what he had seen. "There were…there were people…behind fences and barbed wire." He had no other way of saying it. Sight was the only way to be convinced.

Krista could not breathe. She nearly fell over as the images of her past returned, of a small cabin in the woods with pictures spread upon its floor of people, sickly and weak, dying and dead. Men, women and children, no one spared. She could see Pierre's cold stare, angered by her ignorance. The color disappeared from her face and she felt her skin grow cold. She was afraid; she did not want to see.

"Krista?" At the sound of her name, she turned, seeing the look of concern on Winters' face.

She took a deep breath and sighed, calming herself. "I know what it is." Krista shook her head, biting her lip hard to keep it from trembling. Winters and Perconte looked at each other for a moment.

"You're coming with us."

In a few minutes time, Krista found herself in the back of a jeep, sitting next to Perconte. He continued to look over at her every now and then, more frequently than she wanted. Was she wrong in not telling them? Would it have made a difference in the first place? She was so lost in her thoughts that she hardly noticed that Nixon was sitting in front of her. He looked back just as often as Perconte did, driven by the strange look on her face. She had never looked so afraid before, at least not in recent days.

Perconte pointed in a direction and Krista looked. She could see the high barbwire fences, the enclosure of men all clad in the same striped uniforms, all starving and dying in some way. She took another deep breath and closed her eyes, wishing it away.

This is what her father had known all along, what he had tried to stop, giving the precious information to her. She had failed and now she would have to come face to face with it, with what would haunt her and her country for eternity.

* * *

Cheese and Crackers, she's violent! :D

Note: I made a little oops in this chapter. I confused two parts. They did not break into the homes when they got to Buchloe but I was already well into the chapter so I left it. My apologies again.


	25. Forgiveness

Whoo…I'm back. I didn't abandon you, I promise! This chapter was actually extremely difficult for me to write. It didn't help that I had some classes to take (some extremely BORING ones I might add) and I'm pretty sure my muse wants to go on strike.

That being said, here is the next chapter you all have been waiting for. Krista meets the concentration camp.

Perhaps this isn't the proper time to say it but enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Five: Forgiveness**

**March, 1945**

**Buchloe, Germany**

Hands grabbed at her from every angle. Skinny, long fingers grasped her clothing and hair, searching for something. Salvation. Answers. It could have been anything she guessed at and yet nothing at all. Perhaps the feeling of someone not out to hurt or kill them was all that they asked of her.

They all looked the same, hair shaved, bodies emaciated, clothing striped like an occupant of a prison. These men probably wished for the privileges they would have received in a prison. Their bodies could be described in the same way as a corpse would, save for their eyes. Within these remained the bits of their soul that the Nazis could not take, the courage, faith and hope that managed to get them through each day. It was this brightness in their eyes that impacted her more than their physical condition.

She wanted to cry then, break down and forget everything she saw but a body fell against her, one of the men that had grasped her clothes, he himself crying with joy more than the others. He nearly knocked her to the ground but she stood strong, holding him closely as she lowered him gently.

"Eugene!" Krista cried out desperately, perhaps uselessly. Who knew how many men were out there with an equally hopeless outlook, who knew how many others soldiers cried for their medic in some attempt to save the life of a man long dead. Despite her thoughts on this, the medic did come to her side. It was only then that she realized only her voice cried out amongst the camp's occupants. Others were left silent, too stunned to react in a normal way.

Roe began to look the man over, doing what little he could to assist, even if it was only easing the pain of his passing. Krista could not see what he was doing, she was too focused on the eyes of the man before her. They seemed happy, an emotion she did not think possible even at the moment of liberation. Too much had happened, too much continued still.

His hand reached up to her, brushed her cheek ever so lightly.

"_Anna." _He whispered, "_You look just like her."_

Krista could say nothing to him. She could only choke back tears and slowly search for a voice that eluded her.

"_She was a librarian in Munich…she would not let them burn the books." _His eyes became misty as he remembered the details of everything. His hand moved to grip her collar, the grasp exerting more strength than she thought possible.

"_I will get to see her again," _he paused, taking a long, raspy breath. _"Anna." _There were mumbled words after that but the sounds he made were dying as well as his body. It did not take long after that for his chest to cease its movements and his eyes to lose that glow. Krista looked between the man and Roe, who shook his head before standing up. He left her there, just left her. Maybe there was a reason behind it, maybe someone else had called him but Krista felt abandoned then.

Her breaths became shaky, her eyes darting between various faces of people she did not know. She was crying without tears; she had wished to never see them again but there was always a loophole to what she wanted. After all, these men hardly got what they wished for, why should she?

There was a hand on her shoulder. Krista looked up, wondering who would comfort her in her sin. It was one of the men, the hand protruding from his enormous outfit like that of a skeleton's. Other hands joined his. She looked at them as though they were insane. They were actually trying to comfort her, they who knew nothing of what she had done, knew not who she was. In all of their pain, they still thought to look to others first. It was too much for her.

Krista stood, wishing to run but she knew that would only attract attention. She wished to be invisible now.

So she walked, passing numerous groups of men huddled around soldiers, their exclamations either happy or sad. How she wished she could not understand what they spoke. The men did not know how lucky they were. What they thought were only praises were actually stories of torture, questions of where others were held, desperate attempts to explain that the women were not so far away. The barrier was more complicated than they thought, more disturbing.

"Ask him why they're here."

Winters voice seemed to drift over all others, smashing into her like a ton of bricks. That was the one thing that would undo it all for her. She knew who would be translating for him, it was not that hard to figure out. Webster may have been good but Liebgott was the best at it. He would ask and he would hear. It would not take long for him to put two and two together. When she was discovered to be a German, things had been rocky with him but he forgave. This however, this was something that did not deserve such kindness.

She sighed, moving toward the group, hardly noticing that Nixon was amongst them. Liebgott would find out eventually. She would rather him hear it from her. It was a small offering of how much she cared, one he would most likely not see but in the end it might help her sleep at night.

"I can tell you," Krista said, standing between Liebgott and the prisoner.

Winters watched her curiously, thinking back to the day she had told him about her father. No longer was she the shaking mess that he and Nixon had stumbled upon. She stood tall, not proud but accepting. She knew what she had to do. There would be consequences and she foresaw them, knowing there was no way around it. It was a brave move on her part.

Krista took a deep breath. "They are unwanted, unfit for…society. There are Poles…gypsies…Russians…the…_physically handicapped, homosexuals and conspirators._"

Liebgott translated the words she did not know, still unaware of the climax she was drawing toward. Now he was her friend but one word would change that.

"But…but mostly there are…" Krista bit her lip, not wishing to continue but she knew it had to be done. She looked to Liebgott, the sincerest form of heartbreak and apology in her eyes.

"Jews."

At first he hardly reacted, as though the words had washed over him with no effect. Then it began to sink in, she saw it. He looked at all of the internees, seeing something she did not, noting the stars on their chests he had hardly paid attention to before. They had just been some unfortunate people before. It was not that he did not care but after everything he had seen, perhaps he had come to expect something like this from the lunatic. But now, now this struck close to home. They were not some random group of people, they were his people and they were being exterminated.

"Liebgott?" Winters looked at the translator, concerned.

He shook his head. "Sir, permission to be excused."

Winters merely nodded, watching him walk away toward the exit. He turned to Krista, not feeling any different about her but apparently she thought he should feel that way. She shot him the same apologizing glance before taking off after Liebgott. It was then that Nixon moved for the first time, grabbing Krista's arm. Confused, Winters noted the utter look of hatred she gave his friend before shaking him off. He thought Nixon was just telling her to give the man some space but she would take nothing from him.

"What's going on?" Winters asked, turning to his friend.

"Dick, you really don't want to know."

Krista knew it was a bad idea running after Liebgott. She also knew that Nixon only wished to warn her about it but his touch only refueled the anger she held, driving her to continue. The translator moved fast through the crowds of men, unwilling to even touch them now. Krista had a harder time making it through, the obvious fact that she was a woman drawing the internees toward her curiously. Eventually she caught up, placing a hand on his shoulder, though uncertain of what to say.

"Joe," she spoke softly, mind pining for something else, something to explain but there was no way to describe the makings of a madman. It was there and that was that.

Liebgott turned quickly, slapping her hand away from him, a look of fury upon his face. It caused her to step back a moment, to almost fear him. Could he really hate her so much?

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, voice carrying well over any other around. Some turned in his direction. They were going to have witnesses.

She did not respond.

"Why didn't you tell me, Krista!"

"Would it make a difference? Could you save them?"

"It would have meant I could trust you," Liebgott replied, stepping forward, pointing a finger in her face. He turned back then and once again walked away from her but Krista was not finished with him. She would have her innocence proven yet.

"_Did you have problems trusting me when I bandaged your neck? Or when you fought Guarnere on my behalf?"_ She called out to him, the words forcing him to stop. _"I am the same person I was yesterday, the same one you found in Holland all those months ago."_

Once more he turned around and even stepped toward her again. _"And what were you before I found you, huh? Were you just another Hitler loving maniac who saluted his picture before you went to bed every night?"_

His words cut deep. She would not say that she loved the man before, but she did not hate him. Could she have been expected to when she knew nothing? The man had saved the country. She felt she owed him some kind of allegiance at the time. But her eyes were open now, what difference did it make?

"_I was a girl who lived her life without much thought of politics."_ Her voice was cold now. If he was going to be unreasonable, she was not going to plead. _"I cared for nothing except the latest gossip from school. I knew nothing."_

It almost looked like he smiled. _"You mean to tell me you had no idea that this was going on? That you could ignore it like it was some kind of prank? People were dying and you were playing with dolls!"_

"_Excuse me for being a sheltered girl! Excuse me for being a child that thought nothing was wrong with the world! I'm sorry I didn't investigate anything, didn't try to warn people, didn't get myself killed for having done so! People live in fear! They say nothing because others who have disappeared in the dead of the night!"_

"Then why didn't you tell me?" he shouted, coming back to the main point of the argument. Krista shook her head, looking to the ground. How could she explain it to him? He was bent on not believing her. Every word was a lie now no matter how logical it sounded. She wanted to tell him how much it killed her, that she would see images of him in these outfits they wore, dead and nearly cried out in the pain it caused her but he would not believe it. Maybe later when he was calm, maybe later…

Krista walked toward him, half expecting Liebgott to back up or even hit her but he stayed very still, watching her cautiously. She stopped just before him, turning to look at the camp, hoping he would do the same.

"Can you not see why?"

She waited a while and then turned to face him. Liebgott still gazed at the men inside the camp, eyes twitching ever so slightly. He could see the starved and dead men, the squalor they had been forced to live in, the inhumanity of it all. No doubt he was picturing things, a 'what if' scenario. For a moment, she thought there were to be tears when he looked away, eyes landing on her once more, somewhat softer. Did he understand now? Could she hope for so much?

His eyes hardened once more. "Don't follow me."

Once again he left but he would not look at her again. There was nothing she could say that would make him stay. That, however, did not stop her from trying.

"_I know you were shooting at wounded Germans in the field the day my brother died."_ Her voice sounded like a whisper but it got to him. _"I could have blamed you for his death, but I did not."_

Liebgott stopped in place for a moment but she knew that was all the further it would go. Krista watched him continue his walk until he was well past her sight. She took a deep breath and searched the beautiful sky a moment before returning to the ugly image it was forced to face each day. A few people stood looking at her but most knew better than to pry. They could easily guess the conversation at this point. Unfortunately, it was fairly obvious.

She walked past them back into the camp, hoping to make up for whatever she may have done by helping the others. The men watched her walk by, not wishing to say anything. They knew she needed to be alone, that she was killing herself on the inside, that was how well they knew her.

There was a Jewish man just inside the gate. He was older and looked terribly frail but managed to stand on his own. Understanding filled his eyes and she knew that he had overheard. He did not appear judgmental at the moment but perhaps he did not have the energy to do so.

Krista stopped in front of him. _"I am so sorry," _she shook her head, knowing words could never be enough, _"I…I tried…I knew…I…"_

Her attempted explanation at things was cut off when the man wrapped his arms around her. She was frozen a few moments in shock but soon found herself embracing him as well, needing someone to reassure her more than she thought.

"_You are blameless, child,"_ he whispered softly. Her grip did not loosen but her thoughts wandered. How could he forgive after all of this? How could Liebgott refuse the same? Nothing made sense anymore but then again, nothing ever had. Why she bothered to continue trying to sort it all out was the real mystery.

. . .

Krista was not exactly certain where she was sitting at the moment. The instant someone had decided to leave and go back for food, she had run to the nearest truck, getting onboard without a sound, keeping her gaze fixed on the forests they passed, trying desperately to forget when she knew it to be impossible. They watched her, there was no reason for her to think otherwise but it no longer bothered her. There were more important things being shoved onto her plate.

Footsteps approached and stopped before her. She waited a moment before looking up, realizing again that she had sat upon the first open set of stairs she could find along the street. All around were soldiers exiting various houses with food gathered in their arms, the occupants of the buildings yelling, even chasing, after them.

Looking up, Krista saw Luz staring down at her. He might have been the last person she expected but was actually the one she was most thankful for. If anyone would understand, it was Luz. If anyone could make her feel better, it was Luz. She had underestimated his relationship before but no longer.

"You look lonely," he said. Krista had to laugh at the simplicity of his sentence and the extreme understatement it came with.

Luz sat next to her, waiting for some kind of answer. The silence that followed was her trying to think of one.

"He hates me," she said suddenly.

"Who hates you?"

Krista glared at Luz, not in the mood to determine whether he was joking or not. He seemed to shrink slightly.

"Oh, Liebgott…no, he doesn't…hate you. He'll get over it, I'm sure."

"I did not steal his things or call him a name."

"And you didn't do…whatever that was either." Luz countered, looking at her hard as well. This was certainly a different side of him.

"But I did not tell him."

"Well, to be honest, you did not tell us a lot of things." Krista looked at him slightly surprised for a moment but she waited, knowing there was more. "Self preservation, it's understandable. Even then, why would you tell him that? All it would do is distract him. You saved his life."

Krista had to smile at him for a moment. "I wish I did it for that reason."

"Don't we all," Luz mumbled. He paused, swinging his arm around her shoulder. "You're not the bad guy, Krista. You never have been. Just remember that."

She would try to. For the sake of everything, she would try.

. . .

It was the next morning. Somehow Krista had managed to make it back to her room and even sleep a few hours, though they were turbulent ones at that. The pictures began to come to life in her dreams and the thought of Liebgott being one of the victims only became more real. She hoped he would come to some realization soon. The thought of losing his friendship was devastating. He was one of the few she had managed to not compromise over the months, that was until now. She desperately wished she had told him but if she had, would they have had the pleasant experiences they shared?

Krista was reading a sign, one that she had looked over at least five times already, trying to figure out how she got to where she was. She was hardly paying attention as usual and had wandered into a part of town she could not recognize. A strange occurrence she thought considering it was not that big.

While attempting to remember her mental map of the town, a commotion not far the street caught her eye. There were soldiers moving citizens out of houses, shoving them onto trucks like cattle. It was a curious sight, and a concerning one as well, one that she hardly wished to take part in. She backed away slowly, turning around to head back to where she, hopefully, came from. In doing so, she nearly ran into to MPs, each wearing an equally miserable looking scowl on their face.

"Where do you think you're going, Fraulein?"

Krista tried to play stupid. She smiled politely and attempted to pass but both men were rather large, taking up the sidewalk, and were not willing to move.

"Nice try, Gretel. Marshall Law's been declared. That means you and your buddies are going to come with us and clean up that little mess you made in the forest."

She was not certain what made her more angry: being associated with the others or the fact that they referred to the mass murder behind barbed wire as a 'mess.' Whichever it was, it resulted in a lot of curse words in German and an escort to the nearest truck where she was shoved in with the rest, getting ready to head back to the one place she did not wish to see again.

On the truck ride there, she tried to ignore the curious stares of the other passengers. Strange how none of the soldiers seemed to recognize her but most of the civilians did. Then again, it was a small town and she was just a visitor. They tried to speak in low voices but it was difficult against the sounds of the engine. Their conversations were perfectly clear to her. It was just a variation of the same thing she had heard in the last town, and what she may continue to hear throughout her journey back home. At this point it hardly bothered her. There were worse things to worry about.

There were already many civilians inside when they arrived. The original occupants were gone, moved somewhere though she could not be certain where. The task for the day was to move the ones that remained. Those dead, recently and long. Many were doubled over from the sheer smell alone and a few young girls were crying, unable to stand the sight of the dead bodies. It was them she felt sorry for but that was it.

Most of the people passed her by without much thought. There were other things to distract them now. She did the same to them, working in some corner where the others were not. She did not hate them for having done nothing, she knew the reasons but at the same time, she would not defend them. Some things just had to happen.

Hours passed by uselessly. Krista moved bodies back and forth, hardly thinking of anything, intently set on her 'work.' She did not notice that it was dead men she moved, how worn their bodies were, how relieved some of the faces appeared. They were nothing more than objects. Wood, that was what she focused on. Lifeless, never truly living, unfeeling wood.

Soldiers would pass by every so often. Some would make rude comments that bounced off her, no more effective than any other tactic they had attempted. Most would remain silent, struck dumb by it all. They would see her and they would move on, unable to process it all.

At this moment, there was a soldier stopped by her. She hardly paid him any attention. He would be no different than the others. She was working on moving another body to her pile. What they would do with it, she had no idea. She only hoped to be gone soon, back in her bed, refusing to come out again.

There must have been a rock she had not seen or something else. Before she knew it, Krista fell backwards, landing hard on the ground with the body close to her lap. In a moment of confusion and almost embarrassment, she looked up at the man. Her shoulders fell as she recognized him and all defenses went with them.

Lewis Nixon was watching her.

Krista stared at him for a long while before her attention turned back to the corpse. No longer was it a pile of harmless wood. It was a body, a man that had once been alive, perhaps happily married with a family before his life had been turned completely upside down by a sadistic madmen and those that would follow him. She had followed him at one point. She had allowed this to happen no matter how hard she argued.

She looked at her hands. They appeared to be covered with dirt but it was so much more. They were stained with the blood of thousands of lives. The body looked at her, accusing, so much like another she had seen not so long ago. Caught in a moment of panic and fear, Krista backed away, looking up at Nixon again. His face was dark, hard to read. She flashed back to that night in the rain, how she accused him of such terrible things. Now their roles seemed changed, only what she had done was far worse than any robber could imagine.

Taking a deep breath, Krista stood once more, returning to her task of dragging the body along. She hoped Nixon would just leave. Then again, he had every right to remain and insult her with his silent presence.

She struggled more with this body under the pressure of being watched. Her eyes would continue to dart in his direction but he appeared to not move. Would he not do something?

Again, she tripped but she did not remain down long this time. Flushing, she resumed the work, noticing there was something different.

"You shouldn't be here," Nixon said, standing next to her. His voice did not hold any particular emotion but the fact he was saying anything had to mean something.

"Who are you to judge?" she asked, continuing the work.

"You've done nothing, Krista."

"That is what you all say." She stopped, looking at Nixon rather coldly. Everyone except Liebgott.

"Because it's true."

"No, it is not!" Krista shouted. She felt like such a hypocrite now, admitting the exact opposite of what she said before. This would hardly get her anywhere. "I did this! They did this! We all did!"

Now Nixon was getting angry. "What, and you think you haven't paid for it enough already?" He motioned to the others. "This is all that they will do, Krista! A couple more days and this was just a bad memory. You have been fighting for three years! You nearly died!"

Krista shook her head. "You do not understand." She continued to move the body, only to slip once more. This time she did not hit the ground but was caught by Nixon, who sighed.

"Fine, maybe I don't, but that doesn't matter. If you don't leave on your own..." Nixon freed her hands of the body and quickly swept her up in his arms, Krista's surprise keeping her from resisting. "Then I'll carry you out."

She could only stare at him for the longest time as he carried her across the camp. He looked straight ahead, more serious than she had ever seen him. There was an air of determination about him. He had always intended to take her out now, she realized. No matter what since the moment he saw her, this was his goal. She wrapped her arm around his neck then, whispering her thanks into his ear. His face did not change but she felt him squeeze her arm. It was over now. She closed her eyes and rested against him.

"Sir?" An MP ran up to him. "Sir, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, Private?" The authority in his voice caused the soldier to pause a moment.

"Sir… you can't take her out of here."

Nixon stopped in place then. He turned to the MP, giving the man the hardest look he had ever seen. He looked ready to fight, to kill anyone who touched them. It sent a chill up the man's spine.

"Then shoot me."

He continued then, uninterrupted this time. Hopping in the jeep, Nixon kept Krista with him. She sat comfortably on his lap as they drove away. Never again would he have her see something like this. There need not be more nightmares for her. Whether she thought so or not, she had paid enough. Life owed her one.

* * *

Not exactly what I wanted. I'll admit this is not my favorite chapter. Hope you guys still found it to your liking. I'm hoping the next one is much better. My apologies.


	26. No Apologies

**To you, Andrew, are all my future writings dedicated. You showed me how to never stop. Andrew Wayne Prater (5/11/90-9/4/10)**

Holy crap! It has been WAAAAYYYYYY too long. I cannot apologize enough for this. I have been distracted by so many things it is rather pitiful, but here I am! Ready for more! If this chapter seems a little…erm…choppy…it's probably because I stopped and started it every other day for a very long time. Frankly, I thought it was longer than this but it is better than nothing. Oh, I hope you guys can forgive me! You are all the best readers! I have fudge! *tosses fudge*

Oh, and the end, I couldn't remember what Colonel Sink said so I just kinda made it up. I don't have the DVD on me at the moment. Sorry it ends rather suddenly too but I felt like I had put too much in as well.

**Author's Note: **My apologies, was skimming through the book and realized that the discovery of the camp was in late April, and when they moved to Berchtesgaden it was May and my story has been in March. Sorry Sorry Sorry…it's magically May now! :D

Okay, so Happy Holidays. I hope everyone has a great time with friends and family and is safe.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Six: No Apologies**

**May 1945**

**Buchloe, Germany**

She was warm, comfortable, more so than she had been for quite some time. Things seemed perfect for the first time in a while, untouchable. There was no fear of something taking it from her. Everything that had happened over the past few years seemed to disappear in an instant, their crushing memories subdued for a moment in time. It was such a perfect dream.

Then she opened her eyes.

With the way life had been as of late, Krista would not have been surprised to see something that almost entirely wiped out the good feelings within her. In fact, she had come to expect it. The road she had chosen was not the easy one and things were almost certain to never go her way and she had finally realized that but today was different.

When she opened her eyes, Krista realized she had not been dreaming at all. This wonderful occurrence, this perfection was reality. She was not asleep, had only blinked, temporarily shut herself away from it.

Gray, that was all she saw and it uncharacteristically enveloped her in its warmth. She smiled, cheeks hurting; she had done so too much already.

"Is this real?" he asked.

Krista's smile widened. She squeezed the hand in hers tighter. "Do not wake up if it is not."

Webster smiled back. They were on either side of the bed, connected by their hands. It had started with him simply examining a cut but he had yet to let go.

She had returned to the town in a daze. The men had watched her return to the building she stayed in, nothing how she never moved for anyone or anything. Some may have stopped her before she got that far but Nixon gave them all a look that shook them to the core. Webster, however, was not affected by this. He waited until later that night, when the Intelligence Officer had ceased to hover nearby, and ran up to her room on the fourth and top floor.

For a long time, he was afraid that she would never answer the door. He leaned his head on the frame, intent on staying there as long as it took, even if that meant standing there well into the next day. He listened intently for any signs of life within the room and came up with nothing, afraid that she may not have even been in there.

He was about ready to sit when the door cracked open slightly. The interior of her room was dark and all that the small sliver of light from the hallway revealed was one bloodshot eye. It almost made him question if had chosen the right room but deep inside he knew he could never be wrong. Hearing her shaky breath and seeing her white-knuckled grip on the door made him want to burst in at that very moment but he knew better. She would only shrink away from him.

"David?" Her voice inquired, a mere whisper barely heard over the stillness of the area. It sounded afraid. Webster had difficulties holding himself back that time but his feet still remained planted firmly to the floor. His hand was on the doorframe now, almost as white as hers.

"Krista…are…are you," he grimaced at what he was about to say, "alright?"

Surprisingly she nodded but he had no doubt it was to the contrary. "I will be."

There was a long silence. "Can I…Can I ask what happened?" He felt even worse with this line but Webster had no clue what to say to her. Whatever happened to her that day, it was far worse than he could imagine, and she had been through a lot, more than him. He had no right to know how to make her feel better.

"It is a long story," she replied, looking down at the ground as though she were ashamed. This aroused his curiosity.

"I'm not going anywhere," Webster stated. Even if she shut the door on him now, something told him he would hardly budge from the place he stood. He would wait there until she opened it again, or until someone pried him from the spot.

He watched Krista nod again, opening the door wider so he could come in, flipping on a small light behind her. They were standing in the small kitchen, a few things still out of place when the residents were rudely interrupted during a meal. There was a living room to the right, things toppled over as well, either raided by soldiers early or an attempt by the family to take what valuable possessions they had with them.

In the dull light, he could see that she was wearing a simple night dress, with nothing else to cover her up. She appeared to hardly care at the moment. He could see that scar of hers winding its way down her skin, making her relive every moment of the day she first received it. Never could she forget it.

Krista had her arms wrapped uncomfortably around herself, as though the meeting for them was awkward or she was frightened of something appearing to take her away. Webster looked closer and noted how red her arms and hands were, scrubbed raw no doubt. They were even bleeding in some areas.

She watched his gaze, thinking of a way to explain. "They were…stained."

Webster said nothing in reply. He simply watched her, waiting for something to happen. He could not make the first move. She stood still a little while longer, a shaking leaf against the storm, resisting a cause that was already lost. Then she gave into whatever she had been resisting and embraced Webster, holding onto him tightly as though she were never to do so again. His embrace was equally tight, his warmth more comforting than anything she had felt for a long while.

"_They took me from the city,_" she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder, "_to the camp where I had to move the bodies. They were staring at me, accusing me."_

Understanding it all, Webster held her tighter, tried to hush her like she were some child waking up from a nightmare. She was shaking worse now.

"_Please do not tell me it is not my fault."_

Webster sighed, "_You know that I want to._"

"_But do not._" Krista back away a moment, waiting for him to promise. All Webster could do was not but that was good enough for her. She looked down at herself, suddenly realizing how she was dressed. He noticed a hint of color return to her cheeks out of embarrassment. It made him want to smile, seeing her like this, still so innocent after all that had happened to her.

"_Look at me, I am hardly dressed. Please excuse me a moment,_" Krista said as she dashed to a hallway at the back of the kitchen. He watched a light turn on near the end of it and could hear the sound of rummaging. She had no idea where anything was. He could picture her looking more embarrassed with each second that passed when she did not have what she wanted in her possession.

Placing his helmet on the table next to him, Webster waited for her. He watched the light for some time and the next thing he knew, he was much closer to it than before, and approaching it still. The next moment, he was in the doorframe, watching her search through the wardrobes for what she wanted. It appeared that she had a couple choices but she must not have liked them enough. He leaned against the frame with a smile on his face, wondering if it could truly be him that was the cause of all this commotion, this sudden change in her acting. He leaned harder into it, causing the wood to creak and Krista to jump up quickly and turn in his direction.

He was standing straighter than he had in boot camp, lost in his own embarrassment, though it was obvious her cheeks were a deeper red as well. For the first time that night, he noticed that her hair was down. It was messy, much like that day in Paris, but she looked so much different from then. Something about her was much older, much more certain of things in the world. There was something else there that he could not place, but it intrigued him and he took a step into the room.

It hit him like a brick wall then. Webster knew exactly was he was doing, what he was intrigued by and he felt ashamed by it. He turned away then, leaving the room, ready to leave the entire place if it was best.

"Wait," he heard her say. Webster turned back, confused. She was closer when he saw her again. When he turned all the way back around, her face was mere inches from his. He hardly had time to react before her mouth was on his. They had only kissed a couple times, the first being the only one worth anything. The second had been out of anger and the third a distraction, but this one was neither of those. It was something else, something deeper and he could not help but give in.

His rifle, which he had forgotten he possessed, dropped uselessly to the ground as he cupped her face in his hands then slowly ran them down her neck, feeling the groove of her scar as they went to her shoulders. She shivered under his touch and moved to unbutton his jacket, sliding her hands up his shirt once she had done so. He liked how it felt, slipping out from of his jacket with her help and tossing it to the side. She moved her hands up and down his arms as he pushed her back into the room.

Krista fell onto the bed first and Webster followed, kissing her neck up and down as she worked on his shirt. It all felt so good and so right. After all this time he had been waiting for her, it felt as though she had finally accepted. Or had she?

He stopped, looking at Krista as she stared up at him in confusion. Mere moments ago she had been a complete wreck. Was the just some reaction? He loved her and he knew that she shared these feelings, but what she was doing now was not her. He did not want anymore regret from things done; he had dealt with it enough.

"No," Webster said, shaking his head. He moved away from her, standing up straight. She could see something in his eyes, a form of hurt. Krista suddenly realized what she had done and hung her head. How stupid of her to do such a thing. She heard him pick up his jacket and rifle and proceed into the hallway.

"David," Krista said softly, bringing her head up to watch him turn around. "Please do not go."

He sighed. "I can't stay."

Krista bit her lip, looking at the pile of clothes that had now fallen to the floor. She grabbed a small robe that sat on top and wrapped it around herself. Maybe if she had done that in the first place instead of bickering over what she thought was best, they would not be in this situation. She pat the empty spot next to her on the bed in hopes he would sit down. It was silent for a while but she soon heard him sigh again, much softer this time. She watched him place his stuff back down and take a seat next to her, a little further away than she would have thought but she understood why.

"I am sorry for this. I should not have-"

Webster put his hand up, cutting Krista off. "Do not apologize for anything. I am sick of being in these situations where we always feel like we need to apologize."

"What can we do?"

He thought about it. "No more apologies."

Krista was quiet a moment, giving him a strange look. It had to be one of the more ridiculous things she had heard in her lifetime. "What?"

Webster smiled. "You heard me. No more apologies. They always get in the way. We can never say them fast enough."

"You are silly," Krista replied, pulling herself further onto the bed. She stretched out on the far side, as though ready to go to bed but a smile played on her face. Webster turned to face her, trying to keep a serious look on his face.

"Am I?" She watched him stretch out on his own side, resting on his elbow. "Think about it."

Krista tried to think over what he had said, tried to find a decent point in all of the silliness but sleep was threatening to take control, something she would not have thought to get at the beginning of this night. In order to make him quiet down about the subject, she decided to agree. Perhaps he would not remember in the morning.

Nodding, Krista stuck her hand out. "Deal."

That was all Krista could remember from that night. She must have fallen asleep soon after, hopefully not saying anything that she could not recall at this very moment.

"What do we do now?" Webster asked, about as lost in the new reality as she was.

Krista shrugged. "Stay in bed."

"I miss that luxury," he said with a longing sigh. Krista smiled as she watched him think back over those days. It was true, he could not stay in bed all day, as much as he hated to leave. The others would be looking for him and the last thing either of them needed was anyone, especially Luz, finding out that he had spent the entire night in bed with Krista.

Krista let go of his hand, though it reached out for hers again, and climbed out of the bed. She went to the wardrobe to grab something quickly and hurried out of the room, to change no doubt. Webster watched her leave, eyes watching the doorway long after she was gone. He was lost in his thoughts for a while, not really thinking over anything serious. The last thing he pondered was if all the clothes Krista had been going through were actually hers, and if they were, how they had gotten from place to place.

He then got out of bed as well, grabbing his things and bringing them into the kitchen. As he put his jacket on, Webster eyed Trigger who simply sat on the other end of the room looking at him. He wondered what the creature knew, whether it was about last night or any other time. Trigger had been with them nearly as long as Krista, but had the option of staying in the room if he wanted at times. The things he must have seen.

Instead of continuing to look at Trigger in some kind of awe, Webster appeared to be a little angered.

"Where were you last night?" he asked, as though the presence of the shepherd could have made some kind of difference in the situation. It was not that he regretted it, or at least not all of it, but perhaps they would have been better off without anything happening. He just did not want this night to come back and bite him. It had happened enough times already.

The dog seemed to shrug and lied down, not caring about the troubles of anyone at the moment. Webster wished he was that lucky.

A knock at the door nearly sent him falling out of the chair. Muffled voices could be heard on the other side, ones belonging to people he was not comfortable with knowing where he was. He had started to ease out of his chair when running footsteps caught his attention. Flying into the kitchen was Krista, hair half up in some style that was new for her, a sundress clinging tightly to her body. It was certainly a different look all around for her. It was happy. Despite the situation, Webster began to smile. He must have had something to do with it.

Krista stopped mumbling curses in German in time to open the door. She barely stuck her head through, not wanting anyone to catch how messed up she was.

Luz stood on the other side, smile unusually wide for the morning. "Geez, Krista, you keep up with this sleeping in thing, we're gonna end up leaving you."

She threw him a mock smile. "Good morning, George."

"You know, you're doing pretty good after everything that-" Luz paused, "You know what, I'm not even gonna go there. Just, you look good."

"Thank you?" Krista replied, pretending to be confused even though it was obviously she knew what he was talking about.

"Anyway, we're leaving in a couple hours. Wish these guys could give us a better head start but as long as no one's shooting, who am I to complain? We're going to be in the lead truck."

"Is…Joe?"

Luz was silent a moment. "No, no he's not." There was a tangible tension then. Webster could even feel it from where he was. It seemed to choke the air. She had lost one of her closest friends the other day over something she hardly had control over. No apologies, no explanations were going to get through to him. Only time could, hopefully, make a difference.

"Oh," Luz interrupted the quiet, hoping to end on a lighter note. "And if you see Webster, tell him he owes Janovec big time." With a wink, the man was off, leaving Krista with her mouth wide open in his wake. Did he know?

Turning back into the room, Krista could tell the same idea was plaguing Webster as well. For what seemed like quite some time, the two shared a look of surprise mixed with almost despair, until each of them got it together and decided to continue on as though nothing had happened.

With her hair finished and a bag packed, Krista exited the place with Webster and Trigger in tow. She decided to leave the building first with Trigger while Webster lagged behind, waiting for the coast to be clear. Krista made her way to the lead truck, with almost a skip in her step, attracting the attention of the vast majority of the men. Some were confused by her sudden change in mood, others by her change in clothes but they were all sharing the same feeling: they liked it, a lot. Whether she noticed or not was hard to determine but if she did not, she had to be of the most oblivious sort.

She strutted up to the front truck and held her hands up to the sky, waiting for Bull, who was already in the back, to pull her up. The man could not help but smile as he looked down at her waiting expectantly. He reached down and, with one swift move, picked her up. This time, instead of placing her back down immediately, he held her momentarily in the air, like she thought he could possibly do.

"Hello, Krista."

"Hello, Bull," she replied, returning the smile. He lowered her onto the truck.

"How are you this morning?"

"I am…what would you say…fantastic." Her smile grew wider.

Bull nodded, "That's good…that's really good."

Soon enough, everyone was loaded up into the trucks and on their way again. Krista was now adorned with a helmet and new jacket, a spare of Webster's no less. She felt a sigh of relief escape her when the town was completely out of sight. Bad memories gone, that was all the more to it. Perhaps she could have done nothing for them but either way, she could not continue to linger upon the subject. That was a road there was no recovering from. Her, and Germany, would just have to get past it one day at a time.

Time passed quickly as the men sang or engaged in conversation. Krista joined in as well, even learning a few lines to the songs and singing them herself, hitting notes that the men described as 'ones they could only reach if hit in a particular area,' except in O'Keefe's case. The young replacement flushed a moment but quickly regained his color. He was learning.

Much of the time, Krista found herself talking with Webster, learning new things about him or the men before they found her. If it was obvious what was going on between them, they hardly cared. The others could think what they wanted because somewhere inside, both knew it had been obvious for a long time.

Krista had turned briefly, glancing at the scenery outside the truck. She froze then, her eyes widening. Webster was first to notice when she did not respond and then other began to see as well. Eventually the entire vehicle was silent as they watched her stare into the distance.

"What is it?" someone asked.

"I know these mountains," she replied, voice a whisper and hardly heard.

Luz piped up. "How can you tell? They all look the same." He was silenced with several shut ups.

"Where did you say we were going?" she asked no one in particular.

"We didn't say," Malarkey replied. All eyes watched her curiously as she thought it all out. They could see the memories as they rushed through her mind, racking her with questions and guilt but it all passed over as she finally came to a conclusion.

"Berchtesgaden," she whispered, eyes flicking back and forth over the floor of the truck, everything coming back vividly like she never should have forgotten. "We are going to Berchtesgaden."

"Have you been there before?" Webster asked.

"I lived there."

* * *

Needless to say, the ride from then on was rather silent. The men were more than a little shocked to hear that Krista had lived in that particular city. Yes, they knew her story and who her father was, but hearing it from her all over again, it just brought reality back. Most of the time they forgot who she really was, she was still that Dutch girl to many of them. Besides, Krista was not in much of a conversation mood either at that point. The thought of home, or a home, brought back her own set of memories, like the brother that was dead and the father that she still had to find. She found herself whispering that familiar prayer of not being the only person left alive in her family.

The trucks had come to an impasse and hours later, it was where they still sat. The roadway into the city had been blocked by an avalanche caused by those that lived there. No one was to get in, at least for as long as they could hold them back. A couple of men had been shooting bazookas at the large rock pile. At first they had disturbed Krista but now she napped comfortably as they continued. Her legs were curled up on the bench, using the side as a pillow. The others had unloaded. Some talked, some smoked, others had even engaged in a card game.

Leaning against a jeep further up, Nixon and Winters watched the men entertain themselves. Winters, who had nearly nodded off several times himself, sat up further in attempt to clear his head.

"You know," Winters started, "I never thought that when I got to Germany, I would end up being bored out of my mind."

Nixon laughed, nodding. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"I thought it would be but…it doesn't feel like it used to." He paused, thinking over a few distant memories for a moment. "Besides, the most dangerous thing we could have on our hands is a soldier with nothing to do." The two fell into silence again, listening to the faint sounds of Luz's latest impersonation routine. Winters felt sleep gaining ground again when the sound of a jeep in the distance caught his attention. Together, he and Nixon watched Colonel Sink drive up to them. They stood at attention quickly and gave their salutes, which were quickly waved off as usual.

"What in Sam Hill is going on here?" Sink asked, taking a look at the enormous rockslide behind them.

Nixon tried not to smile, unfortunately he failed. "It seems we ran into a roadblock, sir."

"Well, I can see that. I mean, why is nothing being done about?"

Winters coughed. "We're waiting on the technicians, sir."

"How long have you been waiting."

"Long enough, sir."

Sink sighed, "Well, I'll be damned if the French beat us up there. Take your men around and take the town."

Now Winters smiled. "Yes, sir."

They watched Sink turn around, each feeling much better about the day until they saw him stop. Each looked over the closest shoulder, catching the line he was looking down that lead straight to the sleeping form of Krista on the truck. The good feelings disappeared so fast that they could have been on the battlefield again, and may as well have been heading for it now.

Sink did not turn back around but simply glanced over his shoulder. "We'll discuss _that_ later."

As he walked away, the two exchanged looks but said nothing more.

* * *

**So, there it is! I wish it were better but I think the next one shall be pretty good (and done much faster!) I won't beg for reviews but...*falls onto knees* Please!**


	27. The Life Unfamiliar

Hot dang! I got this chapter out fast! This is a good sign for the rest of the story, which is sadly coming to an end soon. *cries uncontrollably* You guys won't believe how depressed I am that this story is ending soon. That being said, I have been inspired to write another Band of Brothers fanfiction. For those of you who have read my second one, I am sorry, hope is lost. I have to put that story out of its misery. I just brought it up at the wrong time.

So, I ask you, what would you want? I have been toying with quite a few ideas. Mostly I've wanted to take the typically popular choices in fanfiction and put my own spin on it. The one that has been in my head is a girl in the airborne, but it would definitely have some different elements in it and I am also focusing a lot on the psychological effects of warfare, mostly inspired by my recent viewing of The Pacific. It wasn't as good as Band of Brothers, but still amazing nonetheless.

So, again I ask, what would you want? I like to know what my readers think. :)

And thank you to Softball Angel, witchbaby300, BrokenAngel1753, Queen Amy, and SunlitMercy for your review! Much appreciated!

That being said, enjoy the latest chapter!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Life Unfamiliar**

**May 1945**

**Berchtesgaden, Germany**

The town was quieter than it had been in her memories. Even the stillness of night could not compare. There was not a soul to be seen or even a sign of one having been there save for the flags that floated in the air, tied down to windows and poles. It was an eerie sight, the seeming beginning of a nightmare, but she was well awake, waiting for something terrible to happen.

Webster had made her wear his helmet and all the men agreed that she should sit below on the bed. They kept a protective guard over her, their eyes constantly on a swivel, but Krista was still afraid. They had come so far. To lose any of them now would be a devastating blow. The flags may have symbolized surrender but they had been tricked before. These people had done many things for their Führer in the past. She no longer knew what they were capable of.

The fears that each being had, however, never came true. Berchtesgaden remained as silent and still as it had when they entered. All the men unloaded slowly, still uncertain about their surroundings. Though given simple orders, to clear out the buildings, the men were cautious. No one wanted to die now.

Krista had been told to stay in the truck, but a sense of longing tugged at her heartstrings. They had stopped by a two story building with a wraparound porch and deep red siding. It was the color her mother always loved. There was a porch swing that still managed to rock even in the stillness. The windows and door were boarded up but it was still recognizable.

She lowered herself from the truck slowly, in a daze of wonder and reminiscence. If the men said anything, Krista hardly noticed. All she could do was stare at the house and make her way toward it. She was back in her childhood, or at least her teen years. It was much later in the day. Homeschooling across the street with the neighbor's children had just ended. Dieter had run off to the hotel where he was an honorary bell boy determined to meet and greet all of Germany's rich and famous. Her father, recently off for the day as well, was on that porch swing, still in uniform, reading the daily paper. Their old dog was at his feet, enjoying the company. People would pass by and say their hellos and her father would wave in return, knowing most every face he saw. No doubt her mother was in the kitchen finishing dinner. Krista always thought that was all she did during the day. What a silly notion.

A hand landed on her shoulder. Surprisingly, it did not startle her, though her walk down memory lane ended a moment.

"Are you okay?" asked a Cajun accent.

Krista turned to Roe and gave him a brief smile. Her eyes traveled to the other soldiers that had followed. Luz, Perconte, Babe and Bull were the majority of the group, with Webster lingering in the rear, attempting not to look conspicuous but failing to do so all the same.

"This is where I lived," Krista whispered, turning back. She stood in front of the boarded up door. A sign hung from one of the boards. Her fingers ran along its edges for a moment before she gripped and tossed it to the side. Then she began to tug on the boards themselves, a fruitless effort at first until the others began to help her. While she, Bull and Roe worked on the door, the other moved to the windows, knowing Krista would want them uncovered as well.

When the final board was gone, Krista simply stared at the door, breathless, her hand lingering over the knob. She was absolutely terrified of the memories she would find inside. The last time she had entered this house, her family had been happy, not entirely complete anymore, but it was still a wonderful thing. And now…now there was nothing. They had all left her behind.

Roe put his hand on hers, wrapping her fingers around the door knob. "It doesn't matter how you feel. You have to do it, Krista."

"Thank you, Eugene," she replied, opening the door. He always could read her like a book, just like any of the men.

A stale, dusty smell crawled from the house, but there was still something familiar to it, strange but lingering in her memory nonetheless. She took one step inside, the wood below her feet creaking loudly; she felt like laughing with joy. It had always been that way. Her father would swear everyday he would get it fixed but he had never come through. As a result, Dieter never could sneak into the house when he had done something wrong.

The men watched her a few moments more before backing off. They had their orders and clearly she did not need them anymore. Webster, however, lingered in the doorway, watching her look over her old home with a strange awe. He could have watched her for hours but a hand grabbed and pulled him away.

"C'mon, lover boy," Bull mumbled, continuing to pull him down the steps, "She needs to do this by herself."

"I wasn't going to do anything," Webster counted.

"Uh-huh."

Babe, Perconte and Luz were crowded around the sign Krista had torn off her house, attempting to translate the German without much success.

"Hey, Web, what does it say?" Perconte asked, handing it over. Webster read it over first, his reaction apparently concerning.

"What is it?" Babe asked.

"This house belonged to a traitor," Webster started, pausing to check if he was right. "Let it be an untouched reminder of the vigil we must keep for the enemy is everywhere, even living among us. A declaration of the Führer, Adolf Hitler, July 1942." They were all silent a moment, thinking over the words he had just read.

"Three years," Luz said, breaking the silence. "In a couple months, she'll have been on the run for three years." It was a big hit by reality, their war experience feeling greatly dwarfed by hers.

"No," Babe replied, shaking his head, "She's been done running. It stopped when she met us." There was agreement all around but deep inside each of them knew she had never stopped. Krista would always be running just like they would always be fighting.

* * *

Her wandering had lead upstairs to her parents' room. As with the rest of the house, there was a thick coat of dust on everything but she could still see it as though she had never left. The colors were bright, the feeling warm and comforting.

Because of his job, her father had moved them out months before the incident, which she now knew to be the true reason. The other house had been their vacation home of sorts, the advantage of owning such a high rank. They had tried to make it as much like this one as possible but, despite all the places she had lived before, this place had always been the one she called home, a home among killers and scoundrels, hive of the true Nazis the men had been looking for. She had lived comfortably with them and was close friends with many. Times had changed but she would still feel a twinge of guilt at her association with them.

She made her way over to her mother's desk, which had become a shrine of sorts. Everything sat in the exact same place, never touched since she last moved it. Only one thing had been added: a small picture of her, a black ribbon hanging by the side of it. Krista picked it up, wiping the dust from it. She had been so beautiful. Her father often said she looked so much like her, but Krista had her doubts. Her dusty reflection seemed to argue with his point.

There was another picture as well, one her mother kept for herself. It was of her father in uniform, looking as handsome as ever, looks that her brother could have never grown into. Picking up that one as well, Krista moved away from the place. Even before the war had come for her she found it uncomfortable.

Hugging the pictures closely to her chest, Krista began to roam the hallway. It went on a little further then opened up to a rather large sitting area with an equally large window that overlooked the mountains. Past that room was the hallway that led to her room and her brother's. She stared at his blankly, unwilling to even touch the door. Instead she went for her room across the way, grabbing a quick picture off the wall before entering.

Her room was as still as the rest of the house, which was odd because it had always felt in motion. She could not have kept her room clean to save her life. Clothes would be strewn, dolls tossed and the occasional pile of "stuff" would move when one of the house cats found it to be a particularly good resting spot. The house that the dolls never found themselves staying in was still in the far corner by the window. The closet was open with a few articles of clothing in it. She had hoped they would return at some point, even if just for vacation.

Krista spread the three pictures out on her bed: her mother, father and brother, one of him when he was much younger. She could not bear the sight of him otherwise. Inside she still could not accept that it was him on the battlefield.

Was she really all that was left? Of course, her father would not get the black ribbon yet but where would she look? She had no word, no clue of where he could have possibly disappeared to. For all she knew he could have been in England looking for her, or dead at the bottom of a ditch.

Despite all the dust gathered on her bed, Krista crawled on it, lying down with the pictures in her grasp once more. She held onto them like some child would a toy and would not let go.

Krista could not say how long she stayed that way. It most likely would have been longer had she not heard the familiar creaking from downstairs. It seemed even louder, echoing through the empty house.

She sat up slowly, listening for any additional sounds. There were footsteps downstairs, cautious, quiet ones. She listened as they went back and forth on the first floor, looking for something. It instantly put her on alert. Soldiers were searching every house, taking things like they had in every other German city they had come across. Maybe the rest of Easy Company had noticed her in there, but even so, there were other companies up there. While there was not much to come by in the house anymore that was worth taking, it would not deter anyone.

As quietly as possible, Krista left her bedroom. She stopped at Dieter's a moment and then, while keeping her eyes shut, she reached inside his door and grabbed the baseball bat that he always kept by it. Krista moved slowly down the stairs, glancing in all directions. It was when she reached the kitchen that she heard movement again. She raised the bat slowly, not exactly certain what she was going to do with it, but it was comforting to have nonetheless.

In the kitchen, pausing momentarily to look out the window, was a redheaded man, one she instantly recognized as Winters. Lowering the bat, Krista watched him stand there, caught by the view outside of the mountains. There was something in his hand: a picture frame. She knew that particular one. It was of the whole family, a picture taken not long before her mother died. She had treasured it but her father could not bear to look at it so when they moved, she left it behind for his sake.

"Do you need something, Richard?" The man jumped at first, startled by her presence. She had never thought it possible to sneak up on any of them and yet it had happened. Perhaps they were all starting to relax, if only ever so slightly.

Winters turned around. "No, no…well, yes…It was more or less a question I had to ask you and…is that a baseball bat?"

Krista looked down. "Dieter loved the American sport. I, uh…I did not want someone inside."

"So you were going to hit them?" It did sound rather stupid and foolish now: a German girl hitting an American soldier.

"Only if they were stealing," Krista smiled a little, looking at the picture in his hand. "Are you stealing?"

Winters looked at the picture in his hand. "Oh, no…I saw it coming in and…well, I'm not sure why I picked it up." He handed it over to Krista. She looked at it for a moment then put it on the kitchen table along with the bat.

"Looks like a perfect family. Not so much now," Krista said, turning away from the picture. "What is the question?"

For a moment, Winters was quiet, slightly put off but her sudden change in subject. "We just took the Eagle's Nest. Nixon and I are headed up there now. I was wondering if you wanted to come."

Krista thought about it a moment, eventually nodding. "Yes…yes I would."

"Okay then," Winters began to head toward the door with Krista behind him. "Don't worry about your house. I've put a guard on it. Of course, I'm not sure how long I'll be able to hold it for you. More brass is going to start pouring in here and take what we have. I suggest you get what you want now and I promise that we'll take it to the next place we head."

"You will still take me with you?" Krista asked as they stepped outside. Nixon was in the passenger's seat of the jeep, legs resting comfortably on the door. There was another passenger as well. Welsh from what she could tell.

Winters sighed. "I know that with the war ending, we're going to have to do something more…permanent with you." He paused as he thought back to what Sink had said to him. "But there is no way I am leaving you here. It's not safe, not for you." With that he hopped in the driver's seat while Krista moved to the back with Welsh.

"Hello, Harry," Krista said with a smile.

"Hello, Krista," he replied with a ridiculous smile plastered on his face. He was either extremely happy or at the beginning stages of being drunk. Actually, it was probably both. "Marvelous day for war, ain't it?"

"Wonderful."

The drive up was not too long, though a little difficult for the jeep at times. They passed numerous soldiers showing off their war trophies or taking their time to get to the Eagle's Nest the proper way: by foot. Some were walking but most were taking the opportunity to run, showing off their training from way back in Toccoa.

The mountains were as breathtaking as ever from this height. She remembered visiting this place once or twice when she was younger, except then she never had the guts to look out of the car. Dieter would always take advantage of this, purposely rocking the car or talking about how they were all going to fall. She had never found this funny, and still did not. Heights still were something she hardly cared for, though she was rather calm now. It was the thought of death that she had gotten over in her time gone.

Of course, they too would have to walk. The elevator was out of commission due to bombing runs by the Allies. Krista ignored the men's offers of help up the mountain and proceeded to beat all three to the top.

"She makes me feel old," Nixon commented as they headed toward the building.

"That's because you are old," Winters replied, a smile on his face.

"Thanks for clearing that up."

Nixon, Welsh and Krista headed inside, leaving Winters to take care of something before he joined them. Walking into the building made Krista feel like she was back in time again. She had been there when it opened in 1938. There had been a grand, yet small, party held. She had even met Hitler for the first and only time. From what she had heard, he was not a fan of heights either. It made her wonder why the place was even built.

Even now she could hear the clanging of silverware and the cheerful conversations of Hitler's closest allies. She could see her father speaking to him like an old friend. It was hard to imagine that in a few years he would try to kill him; it was hard to imagine now.

There was a dead officer in the room. Krista walked over to him slowly, wondering if she knew the man. She could not recognize him but felt that she had probably met him once or twice in her lifetime. With all the uniforms she had met, they had become interchangeable. She was still staring at the man when Malarkey came up behind her, an opened bottle in his hand.

"Did you know him?"

"No," Krista said, turning to him. "Not that it would matter."

Malarkey nodded, taking a swig. He offered her the bottle. She grabbed it, looking at the labeling for a moment. She remembered this wine. It was one of his favorites, or that was what others had said. They catered to his every want and need, these people. They followed him without question, without thought. He could not be wrong in their eyes. But how could they? How could they let this man take over the continent and think it was good? How could they let him bring death and destruction upon his people and still agree? Her father had only wanted what was best for his country and it was he who was branded the enemy.

Krista took a quick swig, much to Malarkey's surprise, and in her anger, chucked the bottle against the wall, which quickly shattered into pieces, spilling what was left of the champagne across the wall and carpet below. Nixon, Welsh, and Speirs, who had all been outside on the balcony, rushed into the room quickly, eyes instantly turning to Malarkey but his gaze was fixed on Krista. All four watched as she stared at the mark she had made on the wall.

"Heil Hitler," she mumbled, brushing past Malarkey and the others to make her way out onto the balcony.

* * *

About twenty minutes later, Winters and the newly arrived Lipton made their way out onto the balcony, having no knowledge of what had happened earlier. They looked at the three officers sitting amongst the chairs out there, boozing and shooting the breeze.

"Did one of you get carried away back there?" Winters asked, referring to the wine stain on the wall.

Speirs shook his head. "That's Krista's handiwork."

"Krista?" Winters looked like he did not believe him. Speirs motioned past him. Away from the group at the far edge of the balcony was Krista, sitting up on the opening, her back against the pillar. She appeared lost in her thoughts, no doubt trying to prevent herself from having another outburst of rage. He knew this place was not good for her. Like he had said, it was not safe. She even posed a danger to herself. "There's a first time for everything. Better get her over here, she's gonna want to hear this."

"Krista!" Lipton shouted, instantly getting her attention. Apparently she was not as lost in her thoughts as they would have supposed. He waved her over, watching as she jumped off the ledge and walked toward the group.

"Yes?"

"I have something that everyone needs to know," Winters said, holding out a paper. "Attention all troops, stand fast at your current position." All the men instantly mocked the order on the paper. Nixon and Speirs mumbled something while Welsh did his best impersonation of the position of attention. Krista raised an eyebrow but said nothing. No doubt things would only get more interesting as time went on.

"Do you want to hear it?" Winters asked as he looked as Welsh funny. "The German Army surrendered. The war's over."

The silence was so thick Krista could have sworn she heard the soldiers far below in town, but the sounds were instantly covered up by her now rapidly beating heart. What she could only describe as the purest form of joy started to fill every part of her being. The war was over. No more death, no more destruction. For the first time in years, she was officially free.

It took her a while to realize that everyone was looking at her, awaiting her reaction. In her happiness, she kissed all five men in turn. She ended with Welsh, who appeared to enjoy it the most.

"This is wonderful! This is…this is…" Unable to find the appropriate words in English, Krista began shouting random phrases in German, none of the men understanding a word. "Richard, are you going back down?"

"Yes, in fact I am. Nix, you are too. I have something for you." Excited, Krista ran up to Winters and kissed him again before running out of the building, no doubt proceeding to not only beat them downhill but perhaps even commandeer the jeep because they made her wait too long.

Welsh chuckled, touching his cheek. "The Germans should surrender more often."

Nixon laughed a little as he walked out with Winters. "Hey, Dick, did she just call you Richard?"

"I think she did, for the second time today actually."

"Strange day indeed," Nixon replied, taking a swig from his wine bottle.

* * *

After a day filled with drinking, dancing, singing and all around pointless chaos, Krista decided to finally leave the action. Most of the men had lumbered off somewhere to continue their celebration, having absolutely no cares for where they ended up the next morning. She had managed to clean up some of the dust in the house, making it a little more manageable and had actually lit the fireplace in the living room. While it was May, it did get a little cooler up in the mountains. Besides, Krista enjoyed the light from the fire. The thought of no light discipline was nice.

"Will they miss you?" Krista asked. She was with Webster on the couch facing the fire, lying by his side with her arm across his chest, hand in his. His other arm was wrapped around her shoulder; hers by his neck. His jacket, boots and gear were scattered somewhere in the house, as were her shoes.

Webster chuckled. "They're probably too drunk to realize I'm gone."

"And, are you drunk?" They both glanced down at the few wine bottles that littered the floor.

"I'm getting there."

They laughed a little and then there was silence.

"They know about us."

"What? No…no they-" Webster received a look from Krista and remembered what Bull had said earlier. "Yeah, they probably do."

"Are we that…obvious?"

"Well, I've never had a good poker face," Webster replied, both smiling as they thought back to that day in Paris. "I think it was obvious ever since that night in Uden." Krista remembered that night. They had fallen asleep on the cot together.

"You kept the nightmares away. No one has done that before."

Webster smiled. Even she had known that far back. It was nice to hear that he was not alone in it, but it did bring up a thought that caused his smile to vanish. He had been the only one to do what she said, had been the only one for several things and yet, he had not remained the only one. There had been someone else. He tried not to make his thoughts obvious but, like he had said, he did not have a good poker face. Krista knew the instant his smile disappeared. He was thinking about Guarnere.

Krista sat up, feeling undeserving. "I am sorry." She moved off the couch, thinking that this was the best moment to depart; she did not want to go down a bad road again.

Much to her surprise, Webster got up and grabbed her arm, turning her around. "Don't apologize. Remember, I said no more. Despite what you think, I meant it."

"But how can…how can you…" She could not find the words.

Webster sighed. "There are things I don't understand, things I probably never want to but that does not matter because right now you're with me and that is the only thing I want."

Krista embraced him, burying her head in his chest, taking in every smell and feel of him. She felt safe in his arms, safer than she had any place else in a long time. It was a place she never wanted to move from. She never wanted to be without him, but then maybe she would have to be.

"What are we going to do?" Krista asked, a cold realization dawning on her.

"What do you mean?" Webster asked, looking down at her.

"The war is over. You will go home…and I will be here." It was something that Webster did not want to acknowledge for the longest time, but all along it had been there. Everyone knew the war would one day end and going back to America was the one time she could not follow.

Webster sighed. He did not know the answer to this…but he would have to give her something. "I don't know what we are going to do, but it doesn't matter right now. We aren't going home just yet. We'll figure this out. I'm never leaving you again."

"I know," Krista said with a reassuring smile. Standing on her tip toes, she pulled Webster a little closer and began to kiss him. Webster responded instantly. It felt so nice to do so without any thoughts or fears. They were free to be who they were, which was why he was so surprised when Krista pulled away. She broke free from his grip and moved back over to the couch, picking up one of the wine bottles that still had a decent amount of liquid left in it. After that, she moved toward the steps behind them, walking rather slowly and, from what he thought, seductively.

"Wha…what are you doing?" Webster asked, afraid to assume.

"I am taking the…celebration upstairs," Krista replied, turning around. "Do you want to join me?"

Webster walked over as calmly as he could and stopped before her, giving Krista a good once over before picking her up abruptly and climbing the stairs, her laughter echoing throughout the house.

* * *

Yes, the details of what happens when they get upstairs, I leave to you. I'm not one for writing in that department.

Thank you for reading the latest addition to Lese Majeste. I hope you have a lovely day and I hope your holidays were fantastic.


	28. When Things Go Right

To say that I have not updated in a while will be one crazy understatement, if not the craziest. I apologize deeply for ignoring this story for so long. For those of you still reading this, thank you. I really don't expect to get any feedback from this but I am still determined to finish this story. Things have just been really complicated lately. I'm deploying soon (yay…) but fortunately there will be internet out there.

Since it has been so long, I kinda lost touch with what I was doing with the story. I hope it still lives up to the rest of it. Hopefully the next one will be much better.

Again, I'm really sorry. Yell at me all you want. I deserve it.

Good night everyone. :)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: When Things Go Right**

**May 1945**

**Berchtesgaden, Germany**

When Krista woke up that morning, she was confused. After those years of warfare and heartache, waking up in her childhood room was something unexpected. For a moment she wondered if it all really could have been a dream, a horrific nightmare of her imagination's creating. But then, that was not right. Her room was too clean and dust still occupied the air in masses. Slowly her memories of the night before began to return and she smiled.

She looked over at the form lying next to her. Webster appeared to still be asleep. He was on his back, arm reaching in her direction; she must have moved in the night. Moving over, Krista threw her arm over his bare chest, resting her head on his shoulder. She watched his breathing for some time, enjoying its slow repetition.

"Did I do that?" Webster asked, not opening his eyes.

Krista moved her head to look at him. "Do what?"

"That smile on your face." He now opened his eyes, turning. "You weren't the first one up. I, uh…I watched you. You were so peaceful…and then you woke up. I've never seen anyone look so lost before but then you smiled and it all seemed okay."

"Not everything is about you," Krista replied, looking at him rather sternly. Webster called her weak bluff and took on the same look until she broke. "Yes, of course it was…I realized everything was going to be okay…after all that happened to me, something is going right."

Webster shook his head. "I'm not worth-"

Krista pushed a finger to his lips, cutting him off. "Yes, you are." With that she leaned in, keeping him quiet with a kiss. He did not mind her approach to the argument and quickly embraced it, wrapping his arms around Krista to pull her closer. She felt so fragile in his grasp, like any little thing could break her. She should not have survived. Yet here she was, still intact, still the strongest person he knew. Here she was in his grasp making love with him in bed, filled with a passion he could not imagine. It was more than he could have asked for.

His hands moved down her body, feeling every perfect part of her. He traced the scar on her neck and chest with his fingertips. It was almost difficult to see now, if one was not looking for it. He moved his hand down her side and stopped, feeling the raised skin of another scar, a large one. He looked down at it, moving the sheets that covered her skin.

Krista looked at Webster strangely and then realized. She covered herself up quickly with the sheets and moved down to the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around her legs. This was the story she had never told him. If she could have gotten away with it, she probably would have never told him. Perhaps she could have gotten away with it if she had not reacted the way she had, but that wound brought up painful memories of that night, of friends she had not seen in so long. Where were Danny and James now? Were they even alive?

She could hear Webster sit up but he made no move toward her. "What happened?"

There was a long moment of silence. "It was Christmas. We were in Bastogne. Another nurse and I were going to take food from officers and give it to the wounded. Then the shelling began." Krista paused as the memories of that night returned to her. "A lot of people died, more were hurt. I did not know I was until I saw the blood and passed out in the street."

The feeling of Webster's eyes on her was painful. She wished she did not have to tell him any of this. No one ever needed to know about it.

"I…I nearly died." She said no more after that. There was nothing else to be said.

She felt him move toward her slowly. He sat behind her and placed his head on her shoulder, wrapping an arm around her. She put her head on his and they stayed like that for some time. Some part of her thought he may have been crying but she locked it away. That did not matter.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did not want it to affect you," she replied. "I did not want you to know."

He looked up at her. "I could have lost you."

She smiled. "But you did not."

The sound of moving trucks outside caught their attention. More people were coming into town. They had to get ready. The two dressed in almost complete silence. Krista had found a dress in her closet, a deep blue one that used to be a favorite of hers.

"Can you believe it still fits me? And it has a hat." She put the small hat on her head, tilting it to the side slightly. Modeling it in the mirror for a little bit, she put it back.

"Keep it," Webster said. "It looks nice on you."

Krista smiled. "Maybe you should wear it."

Another sound interrupted the moment, a gunshot this time. Both Krista and Webster ducked out of habit, the latter moving to the window after some time. He watched as an officer, which appeared to be Speirs, berated the soldier responsible. He was either too drunk or too stupid to care. Probably both.

"It is only going to get worse," Krista said over his shoulder. He had not noticed her approach. Looking back over the scene, he internally agreed. He could remember those days being bored on the line, looking for any kind of entertainment. It was the same thing here, except no one was shooting at them and they had alcohol.

Standing up, Webster only nodded. Together they made their way downstairs where Webster found his boots and put them on. Krista stood by the doorway, watching all the soldiers outside. There were so many more than there had been the day before and only more would come. They would be swamped in no time. Winters had been right when he said they would not be able to hold her house long.

"Looks like there is no way for me to sneak out this time," Webster observed as he walked over to her.

Krista looked at him strangely. "Why do you have to?"

Taking the hint, Webster smiled. Together they walked out of the house hand in hand. She enjoyed the feeling of her fingers intertwined with his. It felt so…permanent. Stability was something that she needed in her life though in the back of her mind she knew this too would end. But this was hardly the time to think about it. The war was over. There was still celebrating that needed to be done.

They came upon a group of soldiers with knowing smiles. Both Krista and Webster returned them, hardly caring what the others thought. What stunning revelations the end of the war could bring.

"Hey Webster, where were you last night, eh?" Luz prodded, elbowing the paratrooper lightly. Malarkey and Perconte shook their heads. Their friend was not very subtle.

"The same place you were last night, Luz," Webster said with a twinkle in his eye, "Not where I was supposed to be."

Luz nodded. "Touché."

"Where is everyone?" Krista asked, noting that these three were the only familiar faces she saw.

"Here and there," Malarkey replied, "Most are probably treating their hangovers. We were about to head over to Herman Goering's abode. I hear he has an impressive wine collection."

Perconte nodded. "We were hoping to get a peek at what was left before the rest of the guys recover."

"Care to join us?" Luz asked.

The couple looked at each other and shrugged. They had nothing else to do with their time, though by the look on Luz's face, he had a few ideas. As the small group walked to a jeep, she caught Luz whispering something to Webster. The latter quickly turned beet red, a look she had only ever seen on Winters. She may not have known what the paratrooper had whispered to him, but Krista had been around these boys long enough to venture a very accurate guess.

Krista ripped her hat off quickly and whacked it firmly against the back of Luz's exposed head, a cracking sound being the very entertaining outcome. The man fell like he was ducking from incoming rounds, a few choice words escaping his mouth. The others guys laughed at his ill-fortune and proceeded forward.

Webster wrapped his arm around Krista's shoulder. "Told you the hat was a good idea."

* * *

They had been in the house for roughly an hour. As expected, most of the alcohol was gone much to the disappointment of the men. Krista had a sneaking suspicion that whatever Winters had for Nixon had something to do with this building. As Webster pointed out to the others, who really could not have cared less either way, most of the good wine was gone. Not only did that sound like Nixon, it basically proved he had been there.

While the men scrounged up what alcohol they could, Krista searched the house. She had met Goering once. Frankly she did not like the man but then again she never really liked any officers that were not her father. Nothing in his house really screamed that he was the evil man everyone knew him to be but she knew better. She looked at everything with added hatred, only because he owned it.

Sick of looking at his house, Krista retreated to the back where she sat on the rail of his porch and looked over the scenery, fiddling with her hat in her hands. It was such a beautiful place, Berchtesgaden. How unfortunate it was that such evil had to ruin it. She would never come here again and she knew it. Only a dark past remained here. Her future needed to be brighter than that.

She never noticed Webster approach. An air raid might have been happening and Krista doubted she would have moved. Thoughts were powerful like that. It was only when Webster coughed that she turned to look at him, smiling slightly.

"Find anything you like?" She asked, looking at his hands. Webster held up one bottle, placing it on the rail next to her before leaning on it himself.

"Just this, but it's not much," Webster replied, sounding disappointed. "Look like a lot of other guys got here before we did."

"Or maybe just one," Krista said, smiling wider. Webster looked at her curiously but she shook her head. They both looked out over the scenery, Webster starting to pick at the wood of the rail. Krista swung her legs absentmindedly, enjoying the silence. It was much more bearable with someone around.

"I was thinking about last night," Webster said suddenly, not taking his eyes off the rail.

Krista chuckled softly. "Does it have to do with what Luz said?"

"What?" Webster asked, bolting up. "No…no, not that…definitely not…I'm going to kill Luz." Krista began to laugh then, mostly because of the serious look Webster had on his face. Eventually it broke into a smile as he too began to laugh, if only because of her. They quieted down again but Webster took a little longer to speak. He began to pick at the wood once more. "I was, uh…referring to what we were going to do about us…after everything is done."

"Oh." Krista looked down, her legs through with swinging. She was hoping to not have to talk about it so soon. Living in blissful ignorance seemed to be a good way to go right now. "We do not have to talk about that."

"I think we should," Webster stood straight again, walking closer to her.

"I wish that we would not."

"It doesn't matter what you want, Krista. Believe it or not, this is going to happen and-"

"Please David, it hurts enough. I cannot think about us ever being-"

Webster cut her off, voice much louder than before. "What if we got married?"

Krista nearly fell off the rail.

"What?"

He stepped forward a little more, suddenly very unsure of himself. Krista lowered herself from the rail, just in case. "I know it sounds stupid. I can't tell you how many times I've told myself that but it would make you an American citizen. You could come straight back with us."

"David, I…" Krista really did not know what to say. She was in shock, her mind gone blank. "I cannot…we cannot…it…marriage is…" Unsure of how to phrase it, she quickly switched back to German. "_I mean, my father courted my mother for five years before they even considered the possibility of marriage._"

For a moment, she thought of what Guarnere had told her all those months ago. If it had not been her last time seeing him, Krista was certain she would have reacted the same way.

Somehow, Webster smiled. "How's five months?"

Krista was not amused. "David…I…I do not know…"

Webster sighed. "I know. It was just a thought, Krista. One way or another, we'll get you out of here." He turned to head back inside. Krista followed slowly, unable to shake the feeling that he was disappointed by more than just the wine now.

* * *

There was a dance being held that night. No one was really sure who organized it or what it was really for. All they knew what that there would be alcohol and girls. That was enough for most of the men.

Krista stood in front of the mirror, modeling a red dress she had stumbled upon. The cut was a little low for her comfort and she was constantly adjusting it but there was really nothing else for her to go in. She grabbed a small armband lying on the bed and made her way downstairs. The Army had made it clear: no fraternization with the Germans allowed. However, displaced persons were a different story. So as long as she wore the armband with 'DP' on it, the theory was that she would be clear. At least that was what Nixon told her when he had given it to her earlier that day.

That same man happened to be waiting for her when she made her way downstairs and outside. He, like all the others, had cleaned up nicely, putting on his nicer uniform. He also wore a pair of sunglasses and a rather devilish grin. In his hand was a bouquet of flowers. Krista could have laughed at how cheesy he looked.

"I believe these are for you," he said, handing the flowers over.

"Why thank you, Lewis. They are beautiful."

"Well, they used to be until I compared them with you." Krista did laugh then. Nixon seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. So were Winters and Welsh as they watched from the jeep behind him. Leading her to it, Nixon offered his hand when he opened the door. Krista took it, allowing him to help her climb in before he did the same.

"Is it not late for those?" Krista asked, referring to his sunglasses.

"Good thing I'm not driving, huh? Onward chauffer!" Nixon shouted, causing Krista to break out in laughter again. Welsh had a giant grin on his face and Winters merely shook his head, shifting the jeep into gear.

"Yes, sir."

The dance was being held at the hotel in town. It may have been the only time since they had arrived that all of the higher ups had abandoned the place. Being charitable to the soldiers was one thing, being around for what they did with it was another. By the time the four arrived, things were in full swing. It was obvious many soldiers were drunk already, though they may have arrived at the party like that. Most, however, were quite sober appearing, too distracted by the girls around them to drink.

Arm in arm with Nixon, Krista walked inside looking for anyone she knew. A few faces were vaguely familiar but most were unrecognizable. She was not sure she would find anyone she knew that night.

"I think I may be one of the highest ranked in here," Nixon said, looking around.

Krista smiled. "Does that make you one of the oldest?"

"Watch it now, I offend easily," Nixon replied with a wink. He looked around the crowd again. "And you know, just for that, you owe me the first dance."

They made their way over to where it looked like people were dancing. The music started to play slow and they moved accordingly. For a while the two were silent. Krista watched the other couples more than she watched him.

"I never thanked you," she said quietly as the spun around the room.

"You don't have to, Krista."

"But I want to," she replied, looking him in the eye. He had taken his sunglasses off long ago.

Nixon smiled. "You're welcome then." They continued to dance in silence afterward, not really having anything to talk about. Krista was still pretty distracted from earlier. She had not seen Webster since they drove back and had not really talked to him on the jeep. Needless to say it was all a little awkward.

"Do you miss her?" She asked suddenly.

"Miss who?" Nixon sighed when Krista gave him a look. "All the time…especially now that…nevermind."

"Do you think you will see her again?"

"I wish but…Megan is probably back in America by now." He looked hurt. Krista wished she had not brought up the conversation.

"You could look for her."

Nixon laughed softly. "America is a big place, Krista. If someone wants to get lost there, they can."

Krista did not respond and they finished the dance in silence. So many things could change. Say she did stay in Europe while the men went home. Somehow she would try to get to America but what then? It would take years for her to have the money. People change and in that much time, everything they had might be completely undone. She would be thinking of them and they would have moved on. Webster would have moved on.

When the music ended, Krista departed from Nixon and began to search the crowd. Dodging men from all directions, as well as their wandering hands, she sought out Webster, whom she found sulking in a corner. Honestly she did not expect him to show up at all. Upon seeing him, a fire rose up in her, fueling the determination that flowed through her veins.

Webster looked up and saw her coming. He stepped forward, looking a little uncomfortable. "Krista, about earlier. I'm sorry that I-"

"I will marry you."

He stopped midsentence, mouth hanging slightly. To say that he was surprised may have been an understatement. "What?"

Krista took a step closer. "I am saying yes."

Webster still looked a little stunned. "Are you sure?"

"Do not make me change my mind," Krista replied, putting her hands on her hips.

He smiled, taking her hand. "Alright then." He looked around at the other soldiers. "Do you think we should…"

She knew what he was talking about, informing everyone else of their engagement of sorts. It made her think back to all those other days with them. One second one man knew about something, the next everyone knew. Perhaps telling them was not the best thing at the moment.

"No," Krista said, shaking her head.

"Good idea." He turned to the door. "Want to leave?"

She smiled. "Better idea."

They left the hotel hand in hand. Neither of them knew what they were really getting themselves into but they did not care. Something told both of them that if they did not try, they would regret it for the rest of their lives.


End file.
